The Richonne Chronicles
by givesup
Summary: One-shots focusing on the lovely ship known as Richonne. This will have everything from fluff to angst and everything in between.
1. Church Confessions

**So this is my very first attempt at a The Walking Dead fic. I'm somewhat of a newb to the show and super nervous about writing fanfic about it. It wasn't until I finished seasons 1-4 on Netflix that I realized I was in fact, not the only Richonne shipper in the world. So these series of one shots will be focusing on Rick and Michonne. Hopefully it's not horrible. Thanks for reading in advance.**

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Church Confessions

The church somehow felt smaller at night. The walls seemed closer and the roof seemed lower. The air, definitely thicker. Rick was laying on his back as he stared up into complete darkness. His thoughts and crickets competing over who could drive him to insanity first.

Sweat beads began to form below his hair line and he could have swore that he heard them as the trickled down his face and landed somewhere near his head. He couldn't lay there anymore and pretend to sleep. Pretend to rest.

He was restless.

He sat up quickly as though he was suddenly pulled from a nightmare back into reality. But, unfortunately he was never asleep, and the nightmare was life.

He looked over at Carl and Judith who were sleeping peacefully less than a foot away. He touched his chest unconsciously. His shirt was damp from sweating. He looked over his children once more before he quickly and quietly stood up; colt python in hand. The floors creaked beneath him as he maneuvered over and around the others. He made his way towards the back of the church. The place just felt bigger when you weren't sitting in the middle of it. He needed to feel space. His mind was...pacing. He sat in the very last pew that was furthest from the pulpit but closest to the doors.

He exhaled hard through his nose. Better. He felt better.

Several moments passed as Rick continued to sit and watch. Watch and wait. Wait and-

The silhouette of a very womanly figure came into his line of vision. He squinted his eyes, as he usually did when he wanted to get a better read on something. Or someone. As she made her way closer to him it became quite obvious who it was before he could even really see her.

She walked - no, more like glided towards him. She was quiet. Stealth like. Light steps, but sure steps. She eased herself down into a sitting position on the pew right in front of him. She carefully placed her sword down right beside her. She leaned back, her should blades pressed against the back rest.

"You should be resting, Rick." Her voice heavy, but barely above a whisper.

"I should be, but I can't." He ran a hand down his face.

"Can't or won't?"

There was a brief pause before he answered her. He didn't really know anymore to be completely honest. It was probably "Both." He whispered from behind her.

She heard him sigh and then, "Sometimes, my hands start shakin' and I can't make it stop." He confessed. These days, when talking to her, words just fell from his lips. It was easy. Michonne had a powerful grip on Rick Grimes.

He stared at the back of her head. Her long dreadlocks hung beautifully over her bare shoulders that her fitted sleeveless shirt was exposing. "And I swear sometimes it feels like I have no control over myself."

The way he said it more than the actual words themselves tugged at her chest and pulled on feelings that she believed to be dead until Rick gave them life. She swallowed hard and looked down at her feet that were engulfed in darkness. She glared down at them as though she could see them anyway.

"And I swear that...I only feel centered...sane...when you're near me." His southern drawl thick on every word that he whispered.

She turned her head to the side, and saw him in her peripheral vision. "It's natural . We're survivors. We saved each other, we've been through -"

"No," He shook his head cutting her off. She turned her head forward again. "That's all true, but it's not just that. It's more than that." He moved forward in his seat and leaned closer to her back. "You know it. You know it's more than that..."

Michonne's shoulders rose and fell quickly with each deep breath she took as she tried to piece together what Rick was trying to say before he said it.

Rick moved even further up on the pew. He was sitting on the very edge of it now. His head inches away from the crook of her neck. His hands hovered over her shoulders. "We've both lost Rick," her voice shook, "we've lost and I don't think either of us want to feel that ever, ever again."

"Wether we admit it out loud or not it's not gonna make a difference. If something happened to you," He finally placed his hands on her shoulders, tentatively at first, just slightly grazing her beautiful dark skin that glowed even in darkness like a deep body of water with no light around it except for the moon . "It wouldn't matter. It'd kill me. I'm already in this." he spoke against the back of her neck. "Tell me I'm not alone in this." He closed his eyes as if her next words would physically pain him. "Please."

His voice wavered greatly and it made her stomach burn, and she couldn't tell if it felt amazing or hurt like hell. She didn't know if the fact that Rick Grimes made it so she couldn't breathe was everything good or everything she never wanted to feel again.

Whichever it was, she was powerless to stop it. She stood up and moved to where he was sitting. He reached out for her hand and she gave it to him. He grabbed the tips of her fingers.

She looked down into his blue eyes. Those eyes always spelled his intentions out clearly. And now they seemed calm, and sure. She glanced down to his mouth. His beautiful full lips were pink and chapped.

He pulled her closer by her fingers. She was now standing directly in front of him and because there was hardly any room between pews she was standing right between his legs. He sat staring up at her. He used his free hand to wrap around the back of her thighs, just under her ass. He pulled her even closer, never breaking eye contact.

She glanced down at his lap and made a quick decision. She lifted one leg and placed it on one side of his thigh and slowly brought her other leg up and placed it on the opposite side of him. The wooden pew creaked as she let all of her weight settle onto his lap. She used her knee to push his gun further down the pew.

Neither of them worried about the noise as nothing could have broken or interrupted this moment they were sharing. A herd of walkers could come crashing through that God forsaken place and he wouldn't have budged. He didn't touch her yet. He kept his hands on his seat below and held onto the edge of it. He let his head fall back and rest against the wood.

Michonne slowly brought one of her hands up between them and placed it against his chest. Her mouth opened as though to say something but no words came out. She looked down at where her hand rested against him.

He placed his own hand over hers. The contact drew her focus back to his eyes. "I know...that...you know...that...," she spoke slowly, carefully, "that you're not alone in this." She raked her fingers through his wavy hair and as she did he moved his hands to her hips. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. He pulled her close to his chest. She leaned down and kissed his nose, softly, sweetly. She leaned back and looked at him again.

They both moved then. Her down and him up to capture each others lips. And they did so passionately.

She cradled his face in her hands and he moved his hands up and down her back and he moaned quietly as he tasted her, felt her, savored her.

They pulled apart. He pushed one of her dreads that had fallen over her face back behind her ear. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

She smiled. "You too."


	2. One Fall Evening

**Thank you guys for such a warm welcome. I was so incredibly nervous about posting that first chapter! Your response has been freaking awesome.**

**This particular chapter put me through hell. Still not really sure how I feel about it but your honest reviews and feedback are welcome. Thanks for reading!**

**Also, I changed the rating to M. If you don't like 'M' stuff, skip this chapter.**

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One Fall Evening

The nights had become brisk.

The chilly evening air warning of winter coming. Most folks spent the majority of their time inside the prison unless they had guard or fence duties or something else that absolutely required them to step away from the confines of the prison. The chill in the air was welcomed by Rick, though. It made him uncomfortable but it kept him alert.

Alert kept him alive; him and everyone else.

It was dusk; the sun was falling further and further behind the trees and the sky was glowing bright pink and gold. Rick was gathering vegetables from the garden, picking what would most likely be the last for the season. Finally finished he picked up the heavy crate and headed back.

As he was walking he caught sight of Michonne. Her presence stopped him dead in his tracks and he took her in. Her poncho covered most of her, but he could still see her face. Her katana hung gracefully on her back and her steps were easy and deliberate, even though she wasnt really going anywhere, just sort of pacing and staring out into nothing. Rick knew immediately that something was bothering her.

He let out the breath that he had been holding; the warm stream of air from his mouth creating a cloud of white condensation in the cool air around him. He gripped the sides of the ragged plastic crate a little harder and headed towards her.

Michonne watched him as he neared her. He set the crate down carefully and then closed most of the remaining distance between them. He gave her some space but was still close enough that she was able to feel his body warmth penetrating her personal space.

Michonne held onto the strap of her sheath as she watched how he eyed her carefully.

"Hey there." He greeted her, hands on his hips above his holster.

"It's freezing tonight." She commented, looking past him.

He noticed how her dark brown eyes sparkled as the suns last rays of the day shone against her face. He was caught up in the magnificence of her and very nearly rendered speechless.

"Yeah, it is." He was finally able to choke out. "Whad'ya doing out here?"

"I used to love the fall." She confessed on a sigh, ignoring his question. And his eyes.

"I used to say that it was my favorite season." She admitted sadly.

Rick easily detected the strain in her voice as she tried desperately to keep her emotions in check. He moved to stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder. They looked out into the distance together.

She continued. "My son loved the fall." Her voice cracked slightly. Rick turned his head to look at her immediately.

He was almost...overwhelmed. God, he wanted to know more. Everything. He reined himself in before responding. "Did he?"

"He used to..." she inhaled sharply, and gripped the strap that crossed her body between her breasts even tighter. "He used to be so fascinated with the leaves changing color. He'd ask so many questions." She smiled a sad smile.

"It used to be an exciting time, the fall. Now it's just...cold. I'm just cold...all the time, inside and out and I can't get warm." She looked at him. "Ever."

The sound of near panick in her voice shook something inside of Rick.

But it was when he saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears that his body moved instinctively without waiting for permission from his brain, or her. He was standing in front of her again, so close.

She looked up at him, trying to will herself to defy what she was feeling; over her son and for Rick.

"It gets better. It'll be better. I know it will." He spoke confidently to her. He wanted to make it better for her, take away her pain but he didn't know how to do that at the moment.

Her expression changed from confusion and sadness to anger. "How can you tell me that?" She asked with a disbelieving tone.

Rick studied her face frantically. He wasn't sure if her response came from him not knowing what it's like to lose a child, or if she simply didn't believe that it would get better. Shit, he himself didn't know if it would or not, but he wanted her to believe it. He stared at the ground for a moment then back at her.

"I don't know." He paused. "It's just what I feel." He answered honestly, his southern accent heavy.

She turned her back to him like she was going to walk away but immediately turned right back around and got right in his face. "Feelings? What you feel doesn't do anything for me, Rick." She spat incredulously.

He looked away from her. He dug the toe of his boot into the concrete as he thought.

"You're anything but cold, Michonne. You gotta know that." He admitted easily.

She didn't respond right away so he chanced eye contact with her again. Her expression had softened but caution remained prevalent in her eyes.

Like a magnet being pulled he moved in closer.

Their breath mingled between them as they breathed heavily. He wanted to pull her to himself, kiss her, touch her. God he wanted to touch her, anywhere, he didn't care where.

She suddenly dropped her head and stepped back; her resolve coming down like a steel door around her.

Rick didn't like it.

"No," he shook his head, "you can't do that. Don't shut down on me. I thought we were better than that."

She chuckled sarcastically. "Better than what, Rick? What are we better than?"

"We...you and I have...an understanding. We're here for each other...when shit becomes too...overwhelming." He knew she knew that, but desperate, he explained it anyway.

"You're wrong." She shook her head vehemently as though if she shook her head 'no' hard enough she could somehow convince herself that what she was saying was the truth. "I don't need you. I don't need your help. I sure as hell don't need you to save me." She looked hard into his eyes, daring him. To do what exactly, she hadn't made her mind up on that.

Her words stung, but he didn't react. He got it. He was her target, the only one she trusted to unravel in front of completely. And that's why he took her misdirected anger. She counted on him. And he wanted her to. Anytime. All of the time.

He shifted his weight, leaned in towards her and squinted those beautiful blue eyes of his. "I know you don't need me." He whispered honestly, not taking his eyes off of her for a second.

Her heart ached at the way he said that. Because she knew. She fucking knew she did need him. But she remained silent, standing stubbornly before him.

He moved into her space once more. She stood her ground and looked back up at him. They were essentially chest to chest and neither of them were oblivious to that.

His eyes bore into her. "And I don't wanna save you." His stare fell to her mouth for a split second before returning to her face. "I just wanna touch you." He drawled hoarsely.

A range of emotions played on her face. And Rick moved only after seeing one: sureness.

He used his bigger size to his advantage and slowly moved forward into her and continued to do so until she started to take careful steps backwards, never breaking eye contact with him. Her back finally pressed against one of the steel doors. They stopped. She leaned her head back against the door and watched him.

Rick moved his hand to the cool metal clasp of her belt buckle and ran his finger across it gently. He dropped his head into the space between her cheek and shoulder. His lips were centimeters from her ear. "Can I touch you?" He rasped. He pulled back and looked her in her eyes again.

"Touch me." She answered a bit aggressively as though they had been playing a game and she had just lost by admitting that she wanted to be touched by him.

He wrapped his left arm around her back and held her to himself and he was quick as he unbuckled the clasp and pulled the belt from the loops of her jeans and threw it to the ground beside them.

He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants with a shaky hand. As soon as there was room he shoved his hand down her front and immediately two of his fingers were deep inside her warmth. He moaned right along with her at the long awaited sensation.

"Oh my god, Rick..." She was barely able speak.

He was pushing into her fast and as far into her as he could possibly go only to pull out of her tortuously slow. Then back in fast and out mind numbingly slow...

Michonne's eyes were closed tight as she bit down on her bottom lip while Rick worked her.

He was absolutely enthralled by her. Completely taken by the sexy faces she was making, by her mewling... Her squirming against him.

She finally released her grasp on her sheath and placed her arms around his neck instead. Her nails found his flesh.

"Shit..." She moaned breathlessly.

The muscles in Rick's arm and wrist twitched as he kept up his rhythm. He was sweating and she was too as the heat around them and in them made it feel like it was midday in August.

"Hey..." His voice trembled.

"Ooohhh..." Her knees buckled when he hit a particularly good spot. Her back arched and Rick pulled her even closer to himself.

He used his thumb to massage her most sensitive spot.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck...fuck..." She chanted sensually.

His rhythm continued. "Hey..." He said again. "Look at me, Michonne."

And the sound of her name from his lips brought her eyes to his immediately. "I wanna see you." He swallowed hard against the lump that had continued to rise in his throat. Their eyes were locked on each other now.

"Don't ever stop. Please." She pleaded.

"Never." He leaned in and kissed her so hard and so eagerly it was like he wanted to physically absorb her.

And she exploded.

She swore she saw white as Rick brought her to the most glorious sensation she had ever felt in her entire life, with only two of his fingers. And a thumb.

She whimpered as his fingers slowed inside of her and they rode out the last of her orgasm. When his fingers stopped completely she loosened her grip on his neck, and brought her arms back to her own body.

Her gaze fell from his.

Rick pulled his hand from her pants and stepped away to give her some space. He picked up her belt and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She said taking it from him.

He moved to lean against the other side of the steel door and respectively looked away as she adjusted herself and her pants.

After a moment she was standing in front of him. It was dark now, but she could still clearly see the bulge in his pants.

She looked down at it. "I could-"

"No." He cut her off.

"No..." He said again a little softer. "It's ok." He smiled weakly. "Why don't you head inside, warm up."

She smirked. "I'm pretty warm now, actually."

He returned a genuine smile. "I'll be right behind ya." He promised.

She nodded and turned to walk away. Once she disappeared from his vision he sighed heavily and let his head fall back against the steel door that he had just had Michonne pressed against. He lifted his eyes to the black sky and for the first time, in such a long time, appreciated the stars that he saw there.


	3. I'm here I'm always here

**So here we are again. I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! The ending went a little differently than I had originally planned but, I think it works.**

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I'm here. I'm always here.

She fidgeted with the frayed strings on her worn black jeans. It would only be a matter of time before the feeble threads would tear leaving a gapping hole. She passed her fingers over them repeatedly as she sat on the bottom stair waiting for his reply.

"He knew he was out there and he decided it was a better idea to till the ground and plant seeds instead of doing something about it." Carl replied in hushed tones so that his father, who was just upstairs, would not wake up and hear him. "I mean, he did...nothing." He whispered.

Michonne winced at the ache that spread through her chest at his words. She looked up at him, he was standing only a short distance away. "He did what he thought was best, Carl." She explained, desperation clear in her tone. Her dark brown eyes radiated a warm understanding that always seemed to keep Carl at ease. "I know that his priority has always been to protect you." She looked hard into his glassy eyes, his youthful blue depths shinning brightly back at her full of trust and need; a replica of Rick's when he looked at her, she had noted some time ago.

"This is not your dad's fault. All he wanted was for you and...and..." She faltered, not wanting to speak Judith's name out loud for the sake of them both. "He wanted to keep you safe and give you some kind of - of normal...in this shit world." She explained honestly.

Carl blinked, seemingly unmoved by her words, at least on the outside. Her eyes roamed frantically over his expression, waiting for him to speak. "Carl -" She began.

"Judith." He finally said, knowing she had just purposefully kept from speaking her name. "Judith..." He repeated mustering every bit of his strength to say his baby sisters name as bravely as he could. But even still, he was not able to stop tears from spilling down his face as he did so. "She's gone because of him." He cried.

She shook her head, her vision began to blur as her own tears threatened to fall. "No." She whispered, not to Carl but to herself.

She focused intently on his eyes.

"You. Cannot. Resent. Your father."

She enunciated each word sternly but was unable to control the flutter of emotion that rose in her voice.

Carl was immediately at her side, crashing into her as he fell beside her on the stair. He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could and buried his face just below her shoulder and sobbed.

Her hands, clad in fingerless leather gloves, rubbed soothingly over his back. "Shhh, it's ok. I'm here." Her own tears fell unnoticed, as they usually did, as she comforted him. "I'm always here..." She whispered the promise into his overgrown locks as she tucked him tighter under her chin.

After sometime, Carl's sobs ceased, his sniffing became infrequent, and his clutch around Michonne loosened. Eventually he pulled up and his red, bloodshot eyes sought out her gaze. She moved pieces of his hair away from his eyes with a sad smile.

"We're going to be ok, Carl."

He nodded. "Now that you're here, I really think we will be. We're a family again." He said as he pulled completely out of their embrace and stood again. He wiped at his nose.

"We are," She agreed, pulling something akin to a smile from the boys tortured expression. "Nothing will ever change that. I love you, kid." She sniffed, then smiled genuinely at him.

"I love you too, Michonne."

She nodded, feeling relieved that she was able to combat his emotional breakdown, for now at least. "And I know my dad loves you too." He added causing Michonnes face to quickly grow serious again. She inhaled an unsteady breath, unsure of how to respond. She decided to stand too, keeping her hand tightly planted on the oak banister. "Hey - ah - I'm gonna go check on him."

"Ok." Carl moved back towards the couch in the living room that was still pressed up against the front door. "I'm gonna keep watch while you do."

She nodded, then started up the stairs.

"Hey, Michonne." He called after her.

She turned.

"He's going to be ok, right?"

She let out a deep sigh. "I don't think your dad knows any other way." She answered seriously.

She continued up. Each step she took she could feel her chest tighten more and more. Her boy was broken, emotionally. And Rick — Rick was broken in every way possible. And she felt like it was her responsibility to somehow put their pieces back together for them.

She reached the top of the stairs and one of the floor boards creaked beneath her weight and her hands went immediately to draw her Katana that wasn't there. It was downstairs, she remembered, and she cursed herself under her breath.

Feeling too on edge, she stopped her movements, squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep, steadying breath willing herself to get her shit together. She flexed her fingers a few times before carrying on to the master bedroom just down the hall.

The door was just slightly ajar. She sidled up to it, placed her palm gently against it and pushed.

The light from the hallway fell into the room, illuminating Rick in a soft yellow glow. He was laying on his back, on top of the comforter. She entered the room quietly, sidestepping into it. Once inside, she pushed the door closed with her back, the unnatural light receded slowly from the room and was quickly replaced with a natural ethereal glow courtesy of the moon.

She stood, her feet cemented to one spot as she took in his physical state. A thought flashed quickly through her mind, like lighting, igniting an unyielding anguish within her; he nearly died. She nearly lost him too.

Feeling cowardly, she forced her legs to move. She was more than hesitant to get too close, but she pushed past that. As irrational as she knew it was, she felt the closer she was to him, the realer it all was and the less she could handle it. She forced herself over to him as the evenness of her breathing began to disappear.

There was no buffer now.

The adrenaline from finding him and Carl had worn off. The shock and pain of losing Judith was still ever present, but could no longer be used as a wall to keep the inevitable from rising to the forefront.

There was nothing now but her and Rick and her inner battle that raged with a stubborn insistence.

She was standing parallel to the bed now, her left thigh pressed up against the mattress. She lifted her gaze from his wounded face and planted it on the moon outside instead. As she stared out of the window, her expression was neutral; a complete contradiction to the turmoil bubbling just beneath her rugged surface.

She spoke softly. "This is all my fault." She cursed herself inwardly for her weakness and how it bled easily into her tone. "I was supposed to find him. I told myself that I would. I told you that I would. I allowed you to put your trust in me. I was stupid to trust myself again. I should have learned from the first time." She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard to keep it from trembling before she continued. "I failed." She finally admitted out loud. "I failed you. I failed Carl. I failed Judith." She whispered, her gaze still hard on the moon. "I failed André."

Her head fell then, exhaustion took over. She was tired of feigning strength. She squeezed her eyes closed tight for quite a long moment and when she opened them again she felt that familiar burn. Hot tears fell quickly down her ebony cheeks, dripping to the floor below.

"I'm sorry..." A sob shook her and she brought her hand up to her face to cover her mouth as she wept as quietly as she could. "God, I'm so sorry Rick. I made you believe I could prevent this. You..you trusted me...and now..."

She felt a tender touch against her thigh, startling her from her apologetic confessions. She stilled completely. Her crying even came to an abrupt standstill. She continued to stare down at the floor, unable to face him in the moment.

Rick brushed his fingers against her gently, as he looked up at her. He gave her a few moments to respond to him and when she didn't move, didn't look at him, he spoke. "Hey." He encouraged softly, never removing his touch. In fact, he squeezed her thigh lightly. "Michonne."

She'd never heard him say her name like that — that tender — and it rocked her. She swallowed hard hoping that getting rid of the lump in her throat would somehow dissolve the near overwhelming vulnerability she felt.

It didn't.

But she turned her head anyway and met his gaze, he deserved eye contact, if nothing else.

And God, the way he looked at her nearly undid her. He communicated his feelings, his intentions — all of it, so easily. So easily that, she wanted to stay under that gaze for ever, because she'd never been so drawn to anything in her life. Never been more home, even in the middle of a crisis that was her fault, Rick was comforting. He was anchoring her and he hadn't even blinked yet.

She couldn't bring herself to speak yet, so she only held his eyes. And he searched hers as he moved to sit up. He grimaced as he came to a sitting position, and moved his legs, slowly, cautiously, over the side of the bed all while clutching his ribs on the right side.

Pain was clear on his face, and she almost (almost) reached out to touch him to try to get him to lay back down. "Rick, you shouldn't..." She whispered.

But he was already sitting up on the edge of the bed now, still looking up at her. "You have nothin' to apologize for. Do not blame yourself for any of this." His voice was low and raspier than usual. "I don't wanna hear anythin' else about failin' anyone. Cause you haven't..." He said seriously. He reached out for her lifting his arm in the air signaling for her to step towards him.

She looked at his arm. The sleeve of his button down shirt was completely torn off, the rest of it wasn't any better. Her gaze followed the length of his arm to his shoulder, his chest, his mouth and then back at his eyes. She stepped into his space and he immediately pulled her closer then locked both of his arms at the back of her thighs.

She leaned against him in surrender. His chin pressed into her stomach as he continued to look up at her. She felt his hands moving against the back of her thighs, moving up the sides of her behind and then down again to the back of her legs.

"You've done so much good. So much for my children. So much for me..." He drawled.

She closed her eyes against the ministrations of his hands. And his voice.

"And I know you did right by Andrè. Cause I know you. Whatever happened to him, I know it couldn't have been your fault."

She began to tremble and he pulled her even closer to himself.

"Shhh, it's ok. I'm here. I'm always here..." He whispered his promise against her stomach as fresh tears began to well in her eyes. He never stopped his hands from roaming as he moved his mouth to one of her hips and kissed the tiny slither of skin that was exposed. The warmth of his breath and the chapped skin of his lips sent her eyes snapping shut once more.

"I could never repay you..." He gently kissed her other hip.

She moved her hands to the top of his head, and threaded her fingers through his curly hair. "Id never ask you to." She replied honestly.

Rick slowly lifted the hem of her shirt, just barely, over her belly button, exposing just a little more skin for his exploration. He looked up into her eyes, looking for any sign of her being uncomfortable and when he saw none he began to plant lingering kisses against her.

She arched into him. Her action successful in stealing his breath right from him. He looked up at her with adoration, her response to his touch, to his mouth, building a confidence within himself that he'd never before felt with any other woman.

He moved his hands to her front and slowly pushed his palms up her toned torso towards her breasts and just before he could touch them he slid his hands to her sides and brought them back down over her ribs.

"Let me take care of you." He said while he stared at his own hands as though hypnotized by the intimacy. He continued, "I wanna take care of you ..."

Michonne moved her hands from his hair to his shoulders and looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment.

Rick stilled his own hands against her as he waited for her to say something.

And she almost couldn't, as he bored into her with those earnest blue eyes, full of trust and need.

"You've already been taking care of me. You're taking care of me right now...and I don't even know why." She admitted sincerely.

She watched as his Adam's apple moved against his throat before he quickly replied, "because...I'm in love with you." He said on a breath, his eyes never leaving hers.

His words, though shocking to hear out loud were no surprise. She'd already felt it for sometime. She cried freely in front of him now, didn't even try to stop the onslaught of emotion from taking her over. She nodded her head yes in acceptance of his confession, though said nothing. She couldn't. She couldn't find her voice. Rick understood and gave her a moment, but after that moment he slowly rose to his feet.

He stood looking down into her eyes while he cupped the side of her face with his hand. His rough, calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone and wiped at the moisture there. "I love you." He said again and moved his head in closer to hers. "So much." His southern drawl strong in his words to her. He looked down at her mouth and then back to her eyes but Michonne was the one to close the remaining distance between them as she gently captured his lips. She swayed into him, almost drunk like, as she moved her mouth against his. Rick quickly matched her eagerness and opened his mouth to her to kiss her as deeply as he could while holding on to her face.

She ran her tongue over his one last time before pulling back. She whimpered. She placed both of her hands against his chest lightly, as to not hurt him, and steadied herself. "I'm..." she began but stopped as she decided she needed to look him in the eye when she spoke and not at her own hands pressed against his chest. And she did, she brought her gaze up to meet his before she continued. "I'm in love with you too, Rick." She admitted.

His held breath came out shaky at best. And she felt a dull, ironically pleasurable, ache take up residence at the pit of her stomach for him. She watched as tears welled in his own eyes and she knew he was trying to keep it together. She understood, and gave him a moment.

But soon, she was moving him back to the bed and he was going willingly. She helped him to lay down and then she laid next to him on her side facing away from him. She felt his arm come around her waist and pull her closer to his chest.

"Careful." She said quietly, not wanting him to strain himself.

She felt the warmth of his lips against the back of her shoulder and then his breath as he spoke. "I really hope I'm not still unconscious and this is a dream."

She smirked at his playfulness. "Wouldn't it be great if this whole nightmare was just one long ass bad dream. And when you wake up your back in your home, with your family." She mused sleepily.

He was silent for a moment as he considered her words. "I can't say I wouldn't want that.." He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm lightly. "But I also can't say that I'd give you up for that."

She turned over to her other side to face him, the gravity of what he'd just said not at all lost on her, even in her exhausted state. She kissed him again, though she kept her eyes open as she did. "We're going to be ok." She whispered against his mouth before snuggling down against his chest.

"I hope so." He replied before wrapping his arm around her again.


	4. Richonne Short: Chapter 1

**So this one is completely random. Like, I started writing this with zero idea on where it was going to go (and I still don't know really) But this is going to be like a 3 shot. I don't have time to commit to a mult chapter fic, but this one was screaming for at least 3 chapters. **

**AU (my first, yay!) please leave a review with your thoughts! And remember there are more parts coming!**

**Warning: references to domestic abuse (nothing too heavy)**

* * *

Rick had reluctantly agreed on going out to the movies with this girl he'd been damn near forced to see, thanks to Shane. He'd been divorced from Lori for just over a year now and he finally felt like he was able to maybe, possibly, entertain the thought of sharing something very light and casual with another woman. His biggest regret, telling Shane that.

Despite everything though, he did enjoy her company. They'd spend their free evenings usually at her place, he didn't want her at his. He thought it too much. Too..personal for right now. His home is where his demons lived and thrived and he didn't want to drag the innocent into that darkness. But at her house, dinners, TV ... that he could do. That was comfortable.

But, his comfort zone was all but obliterated when Julie, a waitress at the local dinner, all but begged to see a movie with him. He agreed, well because that seemed like the right thing to do, even though he dreaded the thought of being out in public with someone else. He and Julie weren't physical in the relationship yet, and not for a lack of trying on her end. It was him. He just...couldn't do it. And he did try. Twice.

And so she really didn't have to beg long for him to give in. He figured taking her to see a movie was the least he could do.

It was a Friday night so of course the theatre was packed. It took a good fifteen minutes just to find a spot to park his Ford F250 pickup.

They stood in line, waited their turn to purchase their tickets at the counter. They were surrounded by other couples, mostly way younger couples, who had no problem launching into full make out sessions to kill time.

It was weird. He was uncomfortable. He fidgeted.

"You alright?" Julie asked. Her shoulder length dirty blonde hair hugged her subtle facial features pleasantly. She was pretty, sure. But, honestly he would have never looked at her twice if Shane hadn't played a part in all this.

"Yeah. Fine. I'm good." He smiled, and pulled on the brim of his blue and white baseball cap out of habit. His blue eyes looked pained, contradicting his assurances.

"If you rather not be here...I'd understand." She offered trying to mask her disappointment.

"Are you kidding? I've always wanted to see this movie...with...that guy." He stuttered awkwardly. Before Julie could respond, he was guiding her forward in line as it was their turn to buy their tickets.

At the counter, Rick reached for his wallet in his back pocket as he spoke, "Two for Seeking a Friend for the End of the World."

The kid behind the glass slid two tickets to him. "That'll be eighteen fifty."

Rick passed him a twenty and leaned against the counter to wait for his change. Almost immediately, he heard some commotion towards his left, and the cop in him was at alert instantly. He looked up and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Over by the bathrooms he spotted a man, his voice was loud and aggressive as he was towering over who Rick assumed to be the mans wife, who he couldn't quite see.

"You fucking liar! Give it to me! Let me see!" The man yelled. As soon as Rick saw the much taller man go for the woman's arm, he moved fast.

"Rick?" Julie questioned as she took the change from the kid and went after him right away, barely able to keep up. There was a small crowd beginning to form now and he saw a security guard hurrying over to the scene as well.

"Stay here." He hollered back to Julie as he quickened his pace towards the couple.

"Mike, let go of my arm. I don't have anything to hide. You're embarrassing me." He heard the woman say right before his eyes finally landed on her. The moment their eyes met, he felt like a bag of bricks were dropped on his gut and he felt the overwhelming need to suddenly catch his breath.

"You're a lying bitch, you-"

"Hey." Rick's voice, low in tone but high in authority, radiated over the crowds murmurs and gasps. Heads turned towards him, including Mike's.

Mike eyed Rick with annoyance for a brief moment before dismissing him and turning back to his girlfriend. "Give me your phone, now!" He reached out to grab her hand but before Mike could even touch her Rick swatted his arm away forcefully. He stepped right between him and the woman. "Excuse me, but I think it'd be best if you took a step back." Rick said calmly looking directly into the mans eyes.

Mike stepped closer to Rick. "And I think it would be best to take your cowboy ass out of my business." He leered.

Finally, the security guard approached them both. "Ok boys, ya'll gonna have to take this elsewhere or I'm gonna have to get the law involved." The overweight man said huffing, clearly out of breath.

"The laws already involved." Rick said evenly, never taking his eyes off the agitated man before him. The woman still stood directly behind him. He could literally feel her presence near his back. He reached into his back pocket opposite to his wallet and pulled out his badge wallet. It hung open between him and Mike. "Rick Grimes, Deputy Sheriff."

Mike didn't even look at the badge before Rick stuffed it back into his jeans, but both the security guard and Mike took a small step back and when they did Rick turned around to speak to the woman. When he was face to face with her, close, his stomach tightened like it had when he first saw her just moments before. "Everything alright, ma'am?"

The woman looked up at him, her dark brown eyes wide for a moment before she regained her ability to think. Speak.

"Yes..." She spoke soft, barely audible. But Rick has heard her.

More staring.

She blinked rapidly. "I mean, yes. Yes everything is fine." She said louder now back in focus. The scene before her pulling her back to reality.

"No it's not fine," Mike yelled from somewhere behind Rick. "I know she's was in the bathroom texting that guy. I know that bitch is lying!" He shouted.

Rick turned and put his hand up towards the mans chest. "Hey! I'm not gonna have you disturbing the peace here anymore. And I'm certainly not gonna have you disrespecting a lady - regardless of what's going on. You got that?"

Mike shook his head with his hands on his hips and began to pace.

Rick looked at the security guard and nodded towards the crowd. "Help me out and get these people moving."

The guard moved into action. "All right ya'll let's go. Party's over. Move it." He moved his arms forward in a shoo'ing motion and the small crowd began to disperse.

Rick turned his attention back to the woman. "What's your name?"

"Michonne." She answered easily.

"Michonne." He savored the name on his lips. She nodded that he had pronounced it correctly. "Well, Michonne, I can't tell you what to do here. You're free to leave with him. But I wouldn't suggest it."

Michonne scrunched her face up. "I'm  
capable of handling Mike on my own. Have been." She said, almost...offended.

"I'm sure you can." Rick assured. "But I've seen this time and time again. Sometimes it not about being capable, but about not being ready. Being off guard." He said seriously.

"Look, officer..."

"Rick."

"Right. Officer...Rick. If anything, I'm more embarrassed than scared. I appreciate what you did here. I think Mike and I are just going to head out. But thank you. Really."

Rick was reluctant to move his body as it was acting as a barrier between her and Mike, but he did anyway. She walked by him and towards Mike. When she was next to him she whispered, "Lets go, we'll talk when we get home." And soon they both disappeared from his line of vision.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He'd nearly forgotten about Julie. He shook his head from the cloud that seemed to be enveloping him and tried to push away the nagging feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.

"Sorry about that, Julie." He apologized sincerely.

"What? No. No way, Rick, you were doing your job." She massaged his shoulder comfortingly. "You think she'll be ok?"

He sighed as he continued to stare down the path that she had walked with that asshole by her side. "I hope so." He finally turned to face her. It was quite obvious that Rick was uncomfortable to begin with and now with what just happened, everyone was still staring at him.

"Let's just get out of here." She suggested.

Rick couldn't have been more relieved. But, still put up a small fight, if out of politeness if nothing else. "But, we already bought the tickets."

"It's ok. Give em' to someone."

He smiled and then happily passed the two tickets to what looked like a high school couple in line.

Later that night. Rick laid on his bed. Only in a form fitting white T-shirt and boxer briefs. It was a rare cool night in early summer for Georgia so Rick only had a fan on in his bedroom. The slight hum helped coax him into sleep. That, and the beautiful face of Michonne that he couldn't quite get out of his head.

(Several weeks later.)

Ricks squad car was nestled off on a side road that split off from a much larger main road. He and Shane were enforcing speed for the last fifteen minutes.

"Tell me you hit that, man."

Rick groaned and shook his head. "Naw, man it's not even like that." He took a sip from his soft drink that was left over from the burger joint they were just at. He didn't even like Pepsi, but he drank it anyway.

"We'll shit, it needs to be! Damn Rick."

Rick chuckled. "Are you seriously obsessing over my very personal sex life?" His voice raised in pitch with the question. "Don't you have enough to worry about with your own sex life?"

"I'm just trying to help you out brother. You need some. Bad. The pussy ain't gon' bite 'cha."

"I do have a son, Shane. I'm well aware of how it works."

"Alright, cause I'm startin' to worry."

"Please don't. The very moment after I have sex you'll be the first person I call." Rick replied sarcastically.

Before Shane could respond dispatch came through the radio alerting them to a domestic disturbance not far from them. Shane answered it and Rick peeled out off of the gravely road headed towards the location.

Only a few minutes later Rick pulled up to a quaint rancher that was isolated off of a back road. Rick pulled up to the fence and Shane got out first. He rubbed the top of his buzzed head as he walked towards the house. Rick stepped out next and secured his hand on top of his gun as he walked up behind Shane who was already standing on the porch. Shane knocked three times and they both waited.

The front door was pulled open and a tall black man stood behind the screen door.

"We were called here about a domestic disturbance..." Shane started.

Rick looked up from where his boots were on the porch, and when he locked eyes with the man he literally saw red. "You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, hey, Rick, hold up!" Shane yelled, confusion clear on his face. But Rick was already swinging the screen door open.


	5. Richonne Short: Chapter 2

**Wow, the response to the last chapter was shocking! I was thrilled that so many of you liked it, but also terrified that I'd completely fail the rest of this short story haha. So here it is. I hope you like the second part. **

**Also, is it October yet?! I'm dying!**

**Warning - mild reference to domestic abuse.**

* * *

After pushing by Mike, Rick entered the house. The screen door slammed shut behind him and the sound of it jarred him from the near unhinged moment that was threatening to make an appearance. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood still to force himself to focus. He just needed to get to Michonne.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Shane's voice questioning Mike and that was the moment he decided to proceed through the house. He slowly moved through the country cottage themed living room. He noticed how everything seemed too in place, too model home like, not lived in — similar to his own home.

There was no noise alerting him to where she might be. Wherever she was, she was quiet.

He approached a hallway and he cautiously made his way down the narrow corridor. He squinted his eyes as he fixed his stare to the end of the hallway hoping that she was only just beyond it. He thought about calling out to her or announcing his presence but the dryness of his throat refused him to do so.

A distinct crunch snatched him from his focused gaze and his eyes fell to his feet immediately. There was an eight by ten picture, framed in stained black wood and cracked shards of glass. There were jagged pieces of glass scattered across the beige carpet no longer an intact covering for the smiling faces of Mike and Michonne.

He swallowed hard.

He stepped over the mess.

He proceeded down the hallway.

At the end of the hallway there was a room to his left. He pushed the door open with the tips of his fingers and peeked inside.

Nothing. Just an empty powder room.

He moved to his right and looked around the corner into what was the kitchen. Like a fly to a florescent light in the middle of darkness, Rick's eyes followed along the floor of the kitchen, making a direct path to the opposite side of the room where Michonne sat on the counter next to the sink.

He turned the corner completely then, stepping fully into the kitchen.

Michonne's eyes were on him instantly.

They each took a long moment to look at each other. She recognized him. Knew who, remembered when and where like it was last night that she'd seen him for the first time, instead of last month.

Rick removed his Sheriff's hat from his head and held it in one hand against his torso.

"Guess your gonna tell me you told me so." She spoke quietly from her spot on the counter.

Like a man dehydrated, he soaked her voice in. He remembered from that night at the theater that her voice was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. It was right then, in that moment, he'd decided that he would never tire of her speaking, even if he had to listen to her for the rest of his life. It was low, it was deep, it was high, it was sultry, it was teasing, it was serious — all at once. Her voice penetrated him, whether he wanted it or not it was in him now.

His needy blue eyes roamed her face.

He thought he was concealing it but she noticed desperation taking his handsome features hostage.

And he noticed the wound on the left side of her head. His eyes followed the trail of dry blood from her temple to somewhere just under her chin. His jaw clenched.

He looked away for only a second. His eyes found hers again before he spoke unevenly. "He hurt you."

Michonne dropped her head. Not in defeat or embarrassment but more in exhaustion and surrender.

Rick placed his hat on the small wooden kitchen table and slowly moved towards her. He kept his eyes on her face as he came to stand right beside her.

As she continued to stare at the floor Rick reached for a paper towel from the roll on the counter and then dampened it in the sink with warm water.

"I'm not a weak woman." She finally spoke quietly.

Rick squeezed the paper towel ridding it of its excess water. He slowly moved his hand toward the side of her face, pausing for just a brief moment before he gently moved a few of her long dreadlocks away from the cut and dabbed the towel against her wound.

"I called the police because I was going to kill him." Her voice shook with anger. "I wanted to show him that I've only taking his shit because I love him. I wanted to show him what I'm capable of. What I hold back every single time he does this to me."

Rick continued to attend to her face as he listened.

"I love him. Or at least I thought I did." She sighed. "What is love anyway?" She asked rhetorically.

"Not this." His voice barely over a whisper.

She turned slightly to look at him. Her brown eyes melted with his own blue.

She looked away.

Rick put the paper towel down, but still stood close to her.

"I guess even the strongest women have a moment when they allow some asshole to change them. Abuse them into believing they're in love. I was stupid."

"You're not stupid, Michonne. You're human."

She pulled back again, but fast this time, like she was stung by something, she gazed at him. Because she was sitting on the counter, she was looking down at him while he looked up at her "Did you remember my name? Or did you hear it again when you got here?" She questioned, her eyes filled with something Rick couldn't quite place.

"I remembered it." He answered honestly.

She smiled; a half smile given the situation, but still a smile nonetheless.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fantastic memory, Rick."

He let out a small chortle, and before he could respond he heard Shane's voice shout - "Hey, Rick!"

Rick quickly created some distance between himself and Michonne before he turned around to greet Shane who was just making his way into the kitchen.

"Hey." Rick answered cooly. He saw that George, one of the EMT's of the county was with Shane as well.

The young EMT slipped on a pair of latex gloves and nodded a hello to Rick when he walked by him to attend to Michonne.

Rick walked to the middle of the kitchen where he met Shane.

"What's he saying?" Rick asked exasperated, referring to the man who he wanted to hurt.

"He ain't denying he put his hands on her but he's claiming it was self defense." Shane explained.

"Bull fucking shit." Rick whispered back to his friend. "Ain't no way in hell I'm believing that asshole."

Shane looked at Rick curiously. He didn't say anything about him recognizing Mike and bursting into the house like a bat out of hell and he didn't say anything about his overly exuberant response just now. Rick was grateful.

"He got any scratches, and cuts, scrapes? Anything to prove his self defense claim?"

"Nah. George checked him out. He's clean."

"Thought he would be."

"You get her official statement yet?" Shane nodded towards Michonne who was still sitting on the counter, now following a light pen with her eyes, while George studied her.

"I was just about to." Rick hooked his thumbs over his gun holster. "Just give me a few more minutes with her."

It took a minute but eventually Shane nodded in agreement. "Alright brother. I've got Jimmy out front holding Mike in his cruiser. Let me know how it's gonna go."

"I will." Rick drawled.

"Oh, and you're gonna have to let her know that she can't stay her no more. Mike says that they don't rent or own this place together. Says he wants her out."

Rick sighed heavily. "All right. I'll tell her."

Shane patted Rick on the shoulder before he turned and walked back out of the kitchen.

Rick went back over to George and Michonne. "She alright?" He asked George and stood in front of them both.

"She's fine. It's just a superficial cut. Doesn't require stitches. No concussion." He removed his gloves and closed his kit. "But she will have one hell of a headache the next few days."

"Great." Michonne muttered sarcastically.

"Thanks, George."

"Take care ma'am. Take care Rick."

Once they were alone once again, Rick stepped closer — not as close as before — but closer.

"What's your last name, Michonne?" He asked taking the opportunity to say her name out loud.

"Moreau." She hopped down off the counter and stood with her back against it instead with her elbows perched on the counter on either side of her.

He'd bet that she was agile as hell. "Michonne Moreau." He said her complete name.

"That's right."

"Tell me what happened here."

She exhaled deeply and blinked several times while she looked up towards the roof as though she was about to address the heavens. "Mike and I are from Atlanta. This isn't my home. His father died last month and he left this house to Mike. I recently quit my job and he wasn't working so I suggested we come here. Check out the house, the town, maybe start new if we liked it." She explained.

Rick listened attentively, taking in the way her features changed with certain words or feelings those words pulled from her.

"I thought that maybe new town, new Mike, right?" She laughed sarcastically. "Mike's been paranoid that I've been cheating on him lately. Always questioning me, getting overly jealous... So anyway, today — this morning — I approached him and told him that I thought I may be...that I think that... I may be pregnant." She looked Rick in the eye, and for the first time he saw a vulnerability there that nearly killed him.

"He blew up." She continued, still looking directly at Rick. "He got in my face, I got in his. He continued to grow angrier and angrier... He gets so pissed when I don't back down. And I started to walk away, down the hallway. He yelled something about not turning my back on him when he's talking to me and he followed me, swiped the picture of us off the wall in the hallway. I was in here. He grabbed me. He pushed me. Cabinet door was open and I hit my head."

She let out another deep breath. "That's it."

Rick shifted his weight to his other leg. "All right. That's all I need." He confirmed.

Michonne stepped forward off the counter and walked up to Rick. His breath hitched as she glided into his space. Her face never gave away her intent — it intrigued him and terrified him. "I know Mike," she spoke quietly, "He's going to say that I can't stay here."

He looked down at the slightly shorter woman, his chest was tight. "He's already made that request."

"Figures." She turned and started to pace away from him.

"You have any family or friends in the area?"

"No. I have no one here, Rick."

"Can you afford a room until you figure something out? I know a guy in town who owns a nice motel. It's not The Sheraton, buts its clean. I could ask him to do me a favor. He could give you a cheap rate." Rick was panicking inwardly. He didn't understand why but he knew without a doubt that he didn't want her to go back to Atlanta.

"Well I'm not going anywhere tonight. Where's this motel?"

"I could take you there. I just need to head back to the station, book Mike and I can be back in an hour."

Michonne nodded. "Thanks, Rick."


	6. Richonne Short: Chapter 3

**I apologize that it's taken me so long to get this update up. But, better late than never. Plus, I spent the last week fangirling over SDCC. Richonne is happening guys. And I'm stoked. **

**Warning - some of you are going to loathe me for this (I honestly had no intention of going _there)_ but the heart wants what the heart wants!**

* * *

The sound of metal against metal clanging together reverberated around the small locker room. The noise cut sharply through the awkward silence as Rick and Shane, the only ones left in the room, changed out of their uniforms. Rick pulled his well worn, black, leather belt through the loops of his equally worn dark jeans and buckled it quickly.

Shane tugged his black p-o-l-i-c-e t-shirt over his head and sighed deeply. "Talk to me brother." He spoke from beside Rick now adjusting his own belt.

Rick exhaled hard through his nose. He turned and picked up his badge wallet from the long, wooden bench behind him and pushed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He then picked up his blue and white hat and placed it on his head. He kept his gaze steady on the bench below while he responded. "Last month I was out with Julie. They just happened to be there and I ended up breaking up a heated argument between them." He paused for few seconds. "That's it." He looked over at his friend.

Shane remained silent as he took a few moments to digest his friends explanation. After what felt like forever, he finally nodded in acceptance of his answer and met Rick's eyes. "You seemed pretty agitated today when we got to the house. I don't see you lose your cool like that often, man. Not over someone you don't even know. I thought you were gonna kill that guy." Shane admitted sincerely.

Rick shifted his weight and placed his hands on his hips, though he didn't realize it in the moment, he dug the tips of his fingers into his flesh as he tried to extinguish his rapidly growing frustration. "The guy puts his hands on her, Shane. I don't stand for that and you know it. Of course I was pissed." Rick's once fleeting gaze turned into a hard, unwavering stare as he waited for his friend to respond.

Shane put up a defensive hand to show that he meant no disrespect. "And I get that, man, I do. I just got a feeling that maybe, this broad -"

"Michonne." Rick cut in angrily.

"Right. Michonne." Shane repeated trying to be patient. "I feel like maybe she got in your head a little bit, man. She is beautiful, hell, damn near hypnotic. But you gotta separate yourself from this situation. You're still healing from Lori and the divorce." Shane placed a firm hand on Rick's shoulder and leaned into him so their faces were close. "Be careful is all I'm sayin'."

Rick had nearly physically flinched at hearing his ex-wife's name. And he reacted. "Coming from the guy that damn near forced Julie into my life? What happened to that guy, huh? You've never once been in a committed relationship before. Do you even know what it's like to have your life smashed to pieces right in front of you and there ain't shit you can about it? You haven't the slightest idea about my state of mind. Don't give me advice about things you don't understand."

Shane slowly retracted his hand from Rick's shoulder and his face went slack as he absorbed Rick's words.

"Shane, I'm sorry." Rick apologized softly once he realized how harsh he came off. "I know you're just looking out. I just - I'm fine. Ok? Let it go?" He asked with a pleading look in his heavy blue eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah I'll let it go." Shane took a step back and looked Rick over trying to decide if he really should let it go or not. After a moment he decided he would, for now at least.

Rick nodded. "All right then."

Shane pushed his locker door closer. "You headin' home? I thought we could pick up a six pack or somethin'."

Rick looked down at his boots. "I'm gonna have to take a rain check. Got somethin' to do." He looked back up hesitantly.

"Alright, brother. I'll see ya tomorrow then."

"Yeah. Tomorrow." Rick watched Shane move towards the exit and disappear around the corner. He inhaled deeply, held it and let out an exasperated sigh.

Rick couldn't get outside fast enough. He felt like he could suffocate from the stuffiness of the station. He pushed open the glass door and was immediately greeted by a strong, threatening wind that swept menacingly through the night's air, pushing some of the flimsy tree branches to their bending limit.

But it wasn't until he was well on his way back to her that the first few large raindrops of the impending summer thunderstorm fell against his windshield. He squinted up into the dark sky and flicked his wipers on as a streak of lightening lit up the night.

Rick pulled up to the familiar rancher and a fluttering began to take up residence in the pit of his stomach. He quickly got out of his truck while leaving the engine on. It was like he was on auto pilot, simply moving without much thought. There was no questioning the situation, there was no debating, no 'is this really a good idea?'.

The rain was falling heavily now so he jogged up to the house, opened the fence and then took the porch steps two at a time. He was barely at the front door when the porch light came on and Michonne stepped out. He stood there, basically soaked, his white t-shirt more wet than dry, his curls that just barely peeked out from around his hat dripped rain water onto his shoulders.

Michonne pulled the door closed behind her and let the screen door close on its on. She stood there, completely dry, and took in his presence as he stared back at her breathing heavily.

"Hey." He finally hollered. He had to raise his voice over the steady sound of the relentless downpour just so she could hear him.

Each of her strong feminine hands clutched the handle of a bag — one large duffle and a smaller canvas style bag. Her deep brown eyes were wide and unguarded but she still looked as though she could turn and run right back into that house and right out of his life just as quick as she came into it.

He recognized her hesitation. And he panicked inwardly. He wanted to step closer, but didn't. "What's wrong? You ok?" He questioned her while he remained planted where he was instead.

He sounded terrified even to his own ears. And if his voice didn't give it away, his face did.

And she saw it.

A clap of thunder roared above them.

"I just. You don't know me and I feel — this isn't weird is it? If you have other obligations..." Her voice shook, but only slightly. "...or a family to get back to then -" She spoke loud over the noise of the storm.

His heart pounded mercilessly against his chest. He wanted to say 'no' verbally, but found he couldn't so he settled on shaking his head instead. After another moment of internal battle, he finally took two slow steps towards her. "Here," he reached his arm out "let me help you with your stuff." He offered with a hint of finality in his raspy, southern drawl.

She slowly raised her arm towards him and Rick grabbed the handle of the large bag, his fingers slid over hers as he did. Their intense eye contact remained as he took it from her and pulled it back towards himself.

She was breathing heavy now too.

"You got an umbrella?" He asked her.

She shook her head. He noticed how her long dreadlocks moved gracefully against her shoulders as she did. "No."

The rain assaulted them both as they ran to his truck. Though honestly neither of them cared as much as they were putting on. In fact, the cool rain against their flushed skin was a welcome relief if you were to ask them about it much later.

Rick pulled the passenger door open quickly and Michonne easily stepped up and into the truck. Rick, for the second time noticed her agility. He took note that she wasn't wearing heels or flats or sandals, no, she was wearing a pair of matte black doc martens. He smirked to himself, closed the door for her and then jogged around to the drivers side.

Once Rick pulled his door closed, silence fell on them like a dead weight.

He placed her duffle bag in the back seat.

He looked over at her, his hand on the gear shift.

She was moving her wet dreads away from her shoulder so they wouldn't drip water down her back. It took a minute, but when she noticed him staring at her, she paused, looked him over and laughed — a real, sincere, freeing laugh at the ridiculousness of it all and he grinned back at her in understanding before he finally shifted the truck into gear and backed out off of the property.

* * *

"Don't worry. I'm not takin' you to some shithole or nothing like that."

Michonne's head was leaned back against the headrest as she stared out of her window. "I'm not worried." She answered without looking at him. Her voice was soft, but sure.

"You seemed a little unsure earlier." He said referencing to when she looked ready to bolt from him while standing on the porch.

"Maybe." She admitted. "But not because I don't trust you." She turned her head to look at him. "I do trust you." She waited for him to make eye contact, and only after he did she moved her gaze back outside her window.

"Why?"

"Why do I trust you?"

"Yeah."

"One; you're a cop. I know that doesn't mean everything but it does account for something. And two," She fell silent for a moment.

Rick remained quiet and waited eagerly for her to finish.

"Well, that part I haven't quite figured out yet." Her tone not as sure as it was a moment before.

"What's to figure out?" He chanced a quick look at her before moving his eyes right back to the road.

"Everything."

* * *

Rick followed closely behind Michonne as she walked ahead of him. The rain was still coming down in sheets so they walked as close to the building as they could to stay under the awning and out of the rain.

Her eyes skimmed each motel door for a number twenty nine. She was more than aware of his presence on her back, as she could physically feel him even though he wasn't touching her. Finally, she spotted the rusty brass numbers two and nine.

She stopped in front of the dark green door. A bolt of lightening crashed somewhere close and she jumped a bit.

She took a deep breath, one that she hadn't really been able to catch so far that night, and brought the key card up to the slot. Rick was standing even closer now, his head was right over her right shoulder as she waited for the door to unlock.

There was a clicking noise and the little red light on the handle turned green.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside the humble little space.

Once inside, she turned to face Rick who was still standing in the doorway, the storm raged behind him as he held onto her duffle bag.

She approached him slowly, almost cautiously, and at first he thought she was moving to grab her bag from him, but instead he felt her fingers wrap delicately around his forearm and pull him gently into the room. He pushed the door closed behind him and set the bag down on the floor.

She never moved away from him. She was standing so close, just under his stubble covered chin. Her scent flooded his space and he breathed her in. He felt his eye close involuntarily.

She watched as he clenched his jaw. She physically saw him trying to pull himself together, there in front of her. He wasn't even trying to hide it.

When he opened his eyes again she was still there, staring up at him.

Her fingers still claimed his arm.

And so he was left powerless. Completely powerless as he ducked his head and captured her lips with enough pressure to communicate to her that everything leading up to that very moment had only been simmering beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment.

And this was the moment. The moment the pot boiled over because it wasn't being watched.

He moved his mouth against hers eagerly hoping to fall into her if he kissed her deep enough. His tongue traveled along her full bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him, never wanting to deny him anything. She would give him everything.

He brought his hands up and moved them to each side of her face, but didn't place his hands on her cheeks like he wanted. Instead, he left them there, hovering, hesitant, scared. He wanted to touch her, guide her, but he felt like if he did that, he'd somehow break what was happening right now.

Michonne had fears, but touching him wasn't one of them. She placed her hands at his waist and pulled him closer to her body. She wanted - needed - to feel him. She moaned at the light contact.

Her moan opened a floodgate inside him that he hadn't even known was there. He finally touched her face, careful of the new wound on the side of her head, and tastes her mouth some more.

They both pulled back for air. Breathing heavily, Rick spoke. "There's a woman...she's my - I mean she's in my -" He stuttered.

Michonne looked up at him, never taking her eyes off of his as he tried to explain.

"She's been in my life for a short time. It's not serious but I ... I felt like I had to say that." He said quickly. His eyes searched hers, desperate for any reaction.

She reached up. Grabbed the brim of his hat and pulled it off of his head gently. Damp curls fell onto his worried forehead and she pushed them away gently. "Don't do anything you don't want to do." She whispered.

"I want you." He rasped.

She tossed his hat to the floor and took several steps back away from him.

She stood looking at him for several long seconds before she reached for the hem of her burgundy tank top and pulled it over her head. She dropped it to floor.

Rick lowered his bloodshot eyes to the perfect dark skin that she had just revealed to him.

Before he had any chance to make a move. She put her index finger in the air, signing for him to wait.

She then lowered her hands to the button of her black skinny jeans. She undid them and began to pull them down over her curvy hips. They were wet from the rain, so they clung to her and came down slowly and almost awkwardly.

Rick would whole heart-idly disagree, but to her even, this was not a sexy strip tease. This was not seduction. This was her, removing layers. Simple as that. But what was more complex were the layers she was removing emotionally with each piece of clothing she pulled away from her body. Rick pulled the vulnerability out of her. And she was allowing it.

She kicked her doc martens off and pulled her feet from her damp jeans. She pushed them to the side with her foot.

She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Her. Michonne. This stranger, essentially, was driving him out of his mind with need and she wasn't even trying.

She slipped her tiny ankle socks off her feet.

She reached one hand behind her back and unclasped her simple black bra. The straps fell from her shoulders and she shrugged the garment off. It fell to the floor silently.

She continued to stare at him. He continued to look her right in the eye, not faltering, at least outwardly, even as her full breasts swayed after being freed.

She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her dark purple boy shorts and paused.

He stood completely still in his spot, leaning a little on his right leg as he tended to do. And he'd continue to do so until she told him otherwise.

He licked his dry, pink lips and squinted briefly.

She continued by pushing her panties slowly down her hips then her endless long legs. She knelt, bringing them down to her ankles, stood and stepped out of them.

Rick looked down at the carpet for a moment, his chest was heaving.

When he looked up again he allowed his eyes to roam over every single inch of her skin. Everything turned him on, not just the obvious parts. Her delicate collar bone. Her scars across it. Her belly button and the way that it dipped in every so slightly. Her calf muscles strong but still feminine, her ankles and her slender and perfect feet.

He returned his focus to her face.

She nodded once and he was on her. He pushed her back until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. She was tugging impatiently at his shirt, so Rick lifted his arms and she pulled his snug white t-shirt over his head aggressively while he kicked off his boots and toed off his socks.

He moved back to her mouth and kissed her with renewed passion. Their tongues met and danced like old lovers. Her hands traveled along the expanse of his toned back. She basked in the feel of his bare skin.

They were strangers but the familiarity between them was overwhelming and admittedly a little frightening.

Michonne pulled back suddenly. Her soulful eyes roamed his face. Every inch of it. "This isn't normal. It isn't... right. But what you're feeling," She put a hand in the center of his bare chest. "I'm feeling it to." She whispered.

He felt like he could either laugh or cry hysterically.

He did neither. Only undid his belt and got out of his jeans and boxers as quickly as he could.

He lifted her and laid her back onto the bed.

His lips hovered over her tight abdomen. His eyes were closed as he skimmed the tip of his nose just above her belly button and the proceeded to place slow open mouthed kisses across her stomach.

She moaned at just the feel of his warm mouth on her. She pressed her head into the pillows and arched herself towards him needing more.

His hands found her breasts and he cupped each of them. He then rubbed the flat of his palms gently across the peak of her hard nipples while he kissed his way up her torso.

"God, you're so damn beautiful." He whispered against her rib cage.

She ran her fingers across the back of his shoulders. Then down the front of his chest and threaded her fingers through his black and grey chest hair. She tugged on it.

"You've unraveled me." She confessed on a breathy moan as Rick pulled a nipple into his wet and needy mouth.

Michonne dragged her fingernails down the sides of his back and didn't stop her travels until she was gripping his ass. He growled into her ear.

They kissed again. Sloppily. Hurriedly.

He moved a hand down between her thighs and palmed her briefly before he parted her slippery folds. His finger slid over clit.

"Jesus..." She whimpered against his ear.

He slid his middle finger into her to check her readiness.

She was practically dripping all over his hand, and he nearly came just from the knowledge that this woman wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

He watched her face as he added his ring finger. He watched her squirm with pleasure and he bit down on his bottom lip.

He removed his hand from between her legs and nudged her thighs open wider. He hooked one of her legs over his arm and shakily pushed into her with one long thrust; he was seated inside of her completely. She gasped and he groaned.

Their labored breaths met between them.

He met her eyes briefly before he captured her lips and starting a hard, grinding rhythm in-synch with the rhythm of his tongue against hers.

The leg that Rick wasn't pushing up against her chest, she wrapped around his waist and held onto him. It felt so fucking good but god, she couldn't get close enough. She wanted to find an opening and dive inside of him and never ever leave.

Rick's thrusts were steady as he made love to her. Taking turns to kiss her, look at her, and whisper things to her. He was worshipping her. He was listening to her body and giving it whatever it requested. Rick hadn't had many lovers at all, but with her, he moved mountains.

"You're perfect. You're everything." He panted against her cheek in his deep southern drawl as he continued his deep, hard movements.

* * *

His strokes, his voice, his words - they each worked together to catapult her into a world unfamiliar. A place she'd never experienced before. And it all started with that tingling pull in the pit of her stomach that let her know she was on the cliff's edge.

"Fuck...Rick..." She grasped the sheets on either side of her and tugged at them hard. He leaned down and pressed his sweaty forehead against hers. "What is it? Tell me?" He whispered.

He ground harder. Not faster, but deeper. He kept at it steadily and soon she was mewling beneath him. She grabbed at his chest, his back, the sheets, his ass...

His own breathing was becoming erratic. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder.

"Rick...Rick..."

"Tell me."

"I'm close. I'm so close..."

He pushed and pushed and pushed and gave every bit of himself; everything. And she took it.

Michonne came hard.

A raw cry of his name followed by a stinging sensation across the flesh of his back let him know she had fallen.

She opened her eyes.

He let go of her leg, grabbed her hands and moved them above her head as he continued to piston into her. He lost his steady rhythm as his climax neared. His body started to stiffen and he grunted with each wild thrust.

"I'm gonna come... I'm gonna..." He couldn't finish because mid sentence he quickly pulled out of her and spurted long strands of his release between them, every muscle in his body spasmed as he did.

"Oh fuck. Oh god." He panted hard. His arms shook as he was barely able to hold himself up above her.

She was still catching her own breath and after a moment she reached up and grabbed ahold of his face as if trying command his attention. "Hey."

He opened his eyes. His mouth hung open as he still tried to catch his breath.

"Hey." She said again. She felt his muscles relax a bit and he finally brought his eyes to hers.

She pulled him in for a thorough kiss. It was slow, it was comforting for them both.

They pulled apart. He slid off of her and laid on his side next to her. She moved on her side as well and buried her face between his arm and chest.

He reached down and pulled the sheet up and over their bodies.

He felt her reach for his hand and pull it towards her mouth. She kissed his knuckles lightly and held his hand close to her face. He looked down just in time to see her close her eyes.


	7. Richonne Short: Chapter 4

**You guys are so sweet with all of your encouragement! I really appreciate all the feedback on that last chapter. You guys totally wanted them to do it. :)**

**And this is the last installment of this tiny little short story. And "epilogue" if you will. I hope you enjoy it. **

* * *

The soothing sound of running water pulled Rick from his already light state of sleep. He blinked his eyes open slowly as realization began to set in. It was still dark outside, so they hadn't slept until morning, or late morning anyway. Maybe she hadn't slept at all he thought, as he pulled his arm from under the sheet and squinted at his watch.

2:02 AM

Rick sat up in the small motel bed and started to scan the floor for his clothes. He didn't want Michonne to come out of the bathroom to find him there, still naked. He wasn't sure how much she'd appreciate that. He wasn't sure how she felt about any of what just happened at all. And that made him feel a little nervous.

He had stood up and pulled his boxers from the floor and started to put them on when he heard the water shut off. He pulled them up over his hips quickly and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

The bathroom door opened and the smell of _clean_ permeated the small room as she emerged from the bathroom.

He looked up at her. She was wearing a pair of black yoga shorts and a faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt – the hem of which just barely fell over her belly button. She had her dreadlocks pulled back into a lose ponytail so that her entire face was on display. He liked her hair this way. Her face was unhidden, unguarded. He smiled to himself a little.

She stood there, leaning against the door jam with her arms folded over her chest. "I didn't mean to wake you… I just wanted to clean up…" She started softly.

He shook his head. "No worries." His face was then the display of mild amusement as he asked, "Floyd fan?"

Her chin dropped as she looked down at her shirt briefly and then back up at him. She smirked, "I dabble…"

He chuckled to himself. "Never would have guessed it." He drawled.

"Really?" She asked now intrigued.

"Really." He followed up quickly.

They fell into silence as they each tried weighing the situation, getting a better grasp on each other, hell, figure out what to even _say_ next.

He noticed, after awhile, that her smile slowly began to recede from her face and she seemed to be deep in thought.

He didn't push her into telling him what was wrong. He only held her gaze and eventually she looked back at him. "I don't know what I'm going to do." She offered honestly.

He sighed heavily and nodded in understanding. He knew the conversation needed to be had. He'd give anything to skip this part. He hadn't even been good at opening up to a woman he had been married to for twelve years. "We'll figure it out." He replied simply and waited on bated breath for a chastisement.

She looked at him curiously, her eyebrows' low in the center of her forehead. "_We'll_ …..as in…. you and I?" She pointed to him and then herself. "You're willing to stick around for this?" She asked him, part of her teasing part of her seriously wanting to know.

He stared at her for a minute, his mouth open slightly as he tried to find words to push out of it. He felt a little unsure of his own sureness, but decided to go with it anyway. "If that's what you want." He didn't want to put her off. But he wanted to make certain that she understood that he had no desire to leave her to scramble on her own. He watched her closely, watched as her shoulders fell as she released her tense posture and moved towards him. She plopped down on the bed beside him and fixed her eyes on the floor. "Rick… I…" She began.

"Michonne –" he cut her off. "I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I'm not very good at this, but I'm tryin'. I was never great at expressing myself so I'm sorry if I'm not saying the right thing here." He explained.

She gazed at him and then placed a tentative hand against his lean bicep. "No. _Listen_," She made sure he was looking directly at her. "I'm not expecting anything to come out of this. Not saying that it didn't mean anything because it meant everything. But I'm not expecting anything from you. You're not saying or doing anything wrong, ok?"

Rick swallowed hard and his eyes flitted away from hers briefly, but the sound of her voice brought them right back to her. "I've _never_ felt this strongly before in such a short period of time. I don't even know you," She said realizing it truly in that very moment that she really didn't know anything about him. "I know nothing about you…" Her voice teetered on the edge of panic.

"The last thing that I wanted to do was complicate things for you…" He said quietly from beside her.

She felt a pang of something in the center of her chest in response to his sincerity. "Rick," She sighed. "_I'm_ the complication, ok?" She stood up from the bed but didn't move away from him. She folded her arms back over her chest. "I could be pregnant. With Mike's child. The man currently sitting in jail. The man _you_ arrested just yesterday - which, by the way, was only the _second_ time we've ever met." She rambled.

"_Technically_, my partner arrested him."

His words brought her fidgeting to a halt. She looked at him in disbelief but couldn't help the teasing tone that seeped through her words. "You are something else, you know that right?"

He smiled but remained silent, sure that she wasn't finished yet.

"And you… you have a _girlfriend_." She started to pace again.

Rick ran and hand over his face and then scratched at his stubble. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that the circumstances that we find ourselves in aren't shitty. We shouldn't have done this, bottom line. Pick a reason out of a thousand why we shouldn't have. But we did, and I don't regret it, Michonne. I'd do it again. Hell, I _wanna_ do it again." He stared up at her hoping that his words were getting through to her on some level – _any_ level. "If you want me to go, I'll go. It'll be easy to chalk it up to attraction, lust and one hell of a bad decision. But I'm willin' to take the difficult route if you are." He said laying it all out there for her to take it or leave it.

Michonne nodded and sat down next to him for the second time. She positioned herself so that her entire body was facing him. One leg was on the bed tucked under her bottom and her other was over the edge, her bare food planted on the floor. "This is crazy. You know that right?"

He shifted his body so that he was facing her completely now as well. "No," He responded softly while he placed a hand on her thigh and rubbed his thumb against her smooth skin there. "This is right."


	8. Mellifluous

**Hey guys! This new "one-shot" is actually going to be a "two-shot" (I really suck at this whole one-shot thing, don't I?) I had to break it up into two parts, otherwise it would have been entirely too long. Hope you enjoy!**

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Mellifluous

Michonne stepped gracefully along the cracked, uneven sidewalk of the small rundown town somewhere just south of the prison. She followed only a few paces behind Rick, her eyes constantly seeking out a hidden threat. It was well into the afternoon and the air was thick with humidity which gave a feeling akin to trudging through swamp waters. Her focused eyes found the back of Rick's sun burnt neck and she took note of the way his skin glistened with moisture under the heavy rays of the unrelenting sun. She felt a drop of sweat fall slowly down the center of her own back behind her sleeveless, now slightly damp shirt. She frowned with annoyance as she quickly reached the hand that wasn't gripping her Katana around to the center of her back and scratched away the irritating sensation.

"I'd kill for air conditioning." She said in that low, even, quiet tone of hers that Rick Grimes had secretly grown very fond of. He'd grown very fond of _her _over the last few months. She'd become his closest friend.

Rick turned his head to the side a little, acknowledging her in his peripheral and he smiled a small smile but kept his pace steady and his eyes forward as he didn't want to take a chance on missing something, or _someone_ and putting them in danger while they were so out in the open. There were really bad people out there – and he knew that now.

She didn't miss his small smile at her comment though. Satisfied; she stayed quiet for a few moments longer.

And then, "I mean, I'd probably _really_ kill someone for ac."

She couldn't help but smile at her own words now, as morbid as they were. Her eyes stayed cemented to the side of his face as she waited for his reaction. She heard him chuckle lightly from in front of her. She loved the sound of his laugh. He had a very innocent laugh, she had noticed some time ago. There was something very boyish and naïve about it, and given there wasn't anything else boyish about Rick Grimes, she found his laugh quite endearing. Rick slowed his gait a bit and waited for her to step into stride beside him. He gazed at her for a quick second while they walked side by side now. "You frighten me a little." He commented playfully in his deep southern twang. She laughed and looked over at him disbelievingly. "For some reason - I highly doubt that." She threw him a flirty smirk before she walked ahead of him. Rick could only shake his head at her, but quickly regained his seriousness as he turned to walk backwards a few steps to make sure that they hadn't picked up on any unwanted company before he quickened his steps to catch up with her.

Soon, Rick and Michonne came upon a rundown row of storefronts. They both stood in front of one store in particular, staring into a huge, dark mess of knocked over shelves and half opened, mostly useless products. Rick shrugged off his backpack and held it in front of him by one of the dirt stained, torn straps. "I know there can't be much of anything left but we'll just have to take whatever _is_ left and make it work." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I have so many more people to provide for at the prison," He said a little wistfully. "Seems like we never have enough." He added and squinted into the store.

Michonne looked hard into his eyes from beside him while his gaze stayed focused on the inside of the store, the doors of which were no longer in existence.

"Hey," She spoke firmly, grabbing him from his moment of doubt. "_We'll_ be fine. _We'll_ take whatever we can get now. And then _we'll_ figure the rest out later when the time comes. " She offered firmly. Rick nodded but remained quiet so she dropped her gaze and squinted up at the store front and read the name above where the doors used to be. She pressed the side of her hand against her forehand to try and shield her eyes from the sun as she read; _Express Scripts. _She scanned over to the right as she continued to read the names of the other four stores situated along side of it;

_Riley's Records_

Rick heard Michonne gasp from beside him; the sound had him turning his attention to her right away, worried that she might have seen something. "What is it?" He asked trying to follow her line of vision.

"It's a record store!" She pointed excitedly and looked over at him with her large brown eyes. In the moment, she reminded him of Carl that one year he and Lori got him a bike for Christmas. When he saw it sitting in their living room for the first time that morning, his entire face lit up with unrestrained joy, just as hers just did. "I miss music _so_ much." She whined as she turned her attention back to the pharmacy in front of her. "I used to not be able to go a day without listening to _something_."

Rick watched her facial expressions as she took a moment to reminisce. "You know," he said after a few moments, "I did some album collected myself a long time ago. I _really_ loved –"

To his surprise, she raised her hand quickly and placed it in front of his mouth, "Shhh..." she shushed him but she didn't actually touch her fingers to his lips. She did, however, glance at them for just a quick second. "No, I don't want to know. Because I will _seriously_ judge you on your taste of music and saying the wrong thing could bring irrevocable damaged upon our friendship." She said seriously but her eyes were gleaming.

Rick feigned being appalled. "Is that right?" He asked leaning back on his feet. "It's _that_ serious, huh?"

She finally dropped her hand away from his lips. "Absolutely." She winked at him. He could only shake his head at her, _again_. She was thoroughly entertaining, _always_. He wiped at the sweat at the back of his neck and focused back on the store in front of them. "How 'bout we get in here and see what we can find… music nazi." They both shared a laugh as they headed into the store together, both being mindful of their footing amongst the broken glass and scattered debris that cluttered the floor below.

.

.

.  
.

.

Rick stepped out of the Pharmacy first, with Michonne right behind him. He slung his pack over his shoulder and looked carefully at the line of trees across the street. Michonne readjusted the strap of her own bag over her shoulder and watched as Rick stared hard at their surroundings. She inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath. She knew who he was looking for. Knew he was paranoid about it somewhere deep down in the recesses of his mind. She didn't go out on those long trips to find _him_ just so she could see what he had been up to all this time. She wanted to find him and kill him. For Rick. For Carl and Judith and everyone else at the prison. She hated the threat of him looming out there. She hated seeing Rick like this. She wasn't sure how much more of it he could take. Finally satisfied with what he saw, or didn't see, Rick dropped his eyes to his watch around his left wrist. "Why don't we take a look in that record store?" He said very businesslike, but he couldn't suppress the smile in his eyes. "Could be some very useful items in there."

Michonne broke out into a full grin.

His heart fluttered at the sight.

"Are…are you sure we have the time?"

He nodded. "I told Glenn and Hershel we wouldn't be back for at least another two hours. I don't see nothin' wrong takin' a quick look."

"We really don't need to, Rick…." She could think of a million reasons why they shouldn't waste time in there. But she wanted to so, so bad.

"But you _want_ to. And so now _I_ want to." He smiled a little shyly at her when he realized the potential implication of his words.

She returned an equally shy smile, turned on her heel and started towards the store two doors down. When she stepped in, her smile fell from her face immediately. She looked around the store and saw records and CD's smashed all over the place. Broken pieces of ceiling laying over a rack the used to display the albums neatly. She saw boxes that had been ripped into, pieces of electronics and wires scattered about. She was pissed. "Well this sucks."

Rick placed a gentle hand at the center of her back. He pressed his fingers into her lightly as an encouragement to move forward. "Hey, come on now. Whad'ya expect? For it to be neatly organized?" He said jokingly trying to bring her smile back. "Let's just look around, see what's still intact."

"Alright…" She agreed hesitantly. She slowly made her way into the store and headed down one of the aisles while Rick stood against one of the stores foundation pillars by the entrance with his arms crossed against his chest. He watched her with fascination while keeping his ears tuned to any noise coming from outside. He watched as she placed her bag down on the ground and shifted her Katana so that she could easily use her hands to move what was left of the records and CD's around the shelves. There was hardly anything left in one piece. He watch her deft fingers move about, touching and sifting. He watched her facial expressions as she read different album titles and band names.

"You might think of me as a giant nerd, but this makes me _really_ sad." She said still rifling through the wreckage. Her voice held a tint of tease to it and Rick only smiled without saying anything. "Let me put it to you this way," She began to explain, "It'd be like you walking into a cowboy boot store and just seeing scraps of leather and shoe boxes everywhere." She smiled fully now but kept her eyes on the task at hand.

He laughed heartily. "You are in rare form today, ma'am."

"Don't you dare tell anyone that I'm not always miserable and brooding."

"'Course not." He said as he continued to watch her as she rounded a corner and started down another aisle.

She ran her finger slowly across the edge of one particular record that caught her eye, and she pulled it out, glad to find it intact. "Johnny Cash." She held it up so that he could see it from where he stood. He squinted, intrigued, and began making his way towards her. When he was close enough he took it from her hands and looked it over. "That's all you, right?" She asked him, amused.

"Maybe." He responded and looked up at her. "Are ya judgin' me?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "No." She said simply after her brief deliberation. "What's your favorite Cash song?"

Rick pondered this seriously for a moment. He scratched at his graying stubble. "Too many favorites to pick just one, but I really love Hurt."

"Jesus Christ, you're depressing." She snatched the record back playfully.

"What?" He laughed. "Don't ask the question if you can't handle the answer, Michonne." He offered suggestively.

She purposefully ignored his lead down Flirt With Me Avenue; she was content in the moment just giving him shit about his music preferences and knowledge. "So, you do know that Cash didn't write that song, right? It was a remake." She asked him while continuing her search through the shelves.

Ricks' eyebrows scrunched as he looked on confused. "….no…." He wasn't sure what the right answer was.

She stopped her movements and sighed while looking up at him, clearly exasperated. "Nine Inch Nails? Trent Reznor?"

Not hint of recognition crossed Rick's face.

"Ok, I'm judging you a little bit right now." She went back to her browsing.

Rick was glad to simply stand and watch her as she made her way slowly down more of the aisles. He'd look back to the front of the small store every minute or so to make sure someone dead or alive hadn't wandered in.

"Ah, check it out! Led Zeppelin. Houses of the Holy." She said wiping her hand across the front of the album to remove the thick covering of dust. Rick studied the iconic artwork of the album which depicted nude women lying and some climbing a hill of rocks. He moved towards her again, as she had managed to make her way away from him. "Who doesn't love Led Zeppelin?" He commented as he inched up beside her, sure that she'd be impressed that he enjoyed their music.

"Meh." She muttered still studying the album art. "I respect them. Not really my cup of tea though."

Rick's face went slack. He couldn't win. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." She confirmed. She turned the record over in her hands and read down the list of the familiar song titles while Rick stood just behind her. "But I do really, _really_ love this song. " She pointed a finger to one of the titles and Rick leaned in even closer to her to read what she was pointing at. _D'yre Maker. _"I know that one."

"It's such an _amazing_ song. It's unlike anything they've ever done. It has such a sexy, island-y feel to it." She looked out to the other side of the store, but clearly she was someplace else in her head. "It just, makes me _feel_ sexy when I listen to it." She mused out loud.

Rick stared at her, slightly transfixed. He quickly cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. He looked away before she could notice her affect on him. "How about we look for a record player?" He suggested looking at the floor. "There's bound to be something battery powered around here…." He was already glancing around the store hoping that he was right. Michonne let the album fall from her hands to the shelf rack in front of her. "We shouldn't waste our batteries on this, Rick."

He looked at her seriously for a moment. How could he explain that he _wanted_ to do this for her because he wanted to be the one to provide a moment of happiness for her – no matter how fleeting. It was a need he couldn't control or explain. He needed her to understand that because he didn't think he could find the courage to say the words. As his blue eyes searched her bistre colored ones, she easily picked up on his plea as it bled heavily through his expression. She confirmed she understood with a long, stare of her own.

Rick broke their connection first. He shifted his weight on his feet and lifted his arm to motion around the store. "So are you gonna help me look for a record player or not?"

The seriousness between them dissipated in light of his renewed playful tone. She was grateful. "Yes, Officer Grimes." She moved towards one of the corners of the store, stepping over boxes as she went. Rick shot his eyebrows up at her, even though she had turned her back towards him and couldn't see his reaction. "Careful, now." He warned after her flirtatiously.

Michonne knelt down over some boxes while Rick turned and went on a search of his own.


	9. Two of a Kind: Part 1

**I feel like it's been forever since I updated last. I am working on part 2 of Melliflous. I can't seem to get that chapter just right though. So I started on something else. Annnd this is the something else. This seemed to flow easily for me you can definitely expect a follow up chapter to this in the near future. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)**

* * *

Two of a Kind: Part 1

The spacious condo was quiet; all except for the occasional deep rumble of voice that periodically echoed throughout the tidy, expensively decorated home. He wasn't yelling, but his deep voice bellowed around the place easily anyway. Mike – tall and handsome – dressed in black slacks and a half open, button down, white collared shirt, stood right outside of their galley style kitchen. He leaned against the marble topped breakfast bar, his irritation, his exhaustion rolled off of him in waves. "You know what I think? I think that you were never really in this." His voice once again pierced the silence that had hung heavy between them ever since Michonne told him that she was going to go join their son Andre down at her parents' home. "Looking back…" He started again, this time his voice was almost wistful as he looked past her now as though he was reliving a sad memory behind his eyes. "I … I see it now. You never _really_ loved me. Not all the way."

Michonne – beautiful in ways indescribable – dressed in tight black leather leggings, a long silky black blouse and black patent leather pumps, stood only a short distance away in the middle of their living room. Their expensive, burnt orange, Persian curtains hung gracefully over the large, ceiling to floor windows that went all the way around the circular living space. In that moment, Michonne realized she actually _hated_ those curtains.

"How could you say that?" She responded without raising her voice. The look she gave him though, was incredulous. "How dare you say that to me? After all this time? We have a child together, Mike. Nothing about this has ever been half assed on my end."

"Then how is it so easy for you to give up on us?"

She blinked quickly as his latest statement really sunk it. She took a half step closer to the kitchen. "Because you gave up on us a long time ago. You've changed into this person that I don't even recognize." She spoke slowly and calmly, it made her feel like she was getting her point across better. Especially with Mike.

Mike turned around and gripped the edges of the breakfast bar as he leaned forward against it. Michonne watched him as he lowered his head and shook it tiredly before he turned back to face her again. "Why do you have to be so complicated? I don't understand you." His eyebrows sat low between his eyes as a genuine look of confusion took form. Michonne only stared back, finding she didn't have the emotional stamina at that point to give yet another detailed explanation. After a few moments of more silence, Mike moved a few steps closer to her. "Why does it feel like I'm always forcing you to do things you don't want to do, be someone you don't want to be?"

"That's because you are, Mike. I am who I am. The things that you loved about me once you can't stand about me now. And you're trying to force me to be someone I'm not. Someone I don't want to be, someone I never was. You're giving me ultimatums. You're the one who threatened to end this relationship if I don't marry you or give you more children. That's not what I want. You can't seem to respect that. You can't seem to get past that."

"I just want what's best for you, baby. I want what's best for us."

"You're smothering me and it feels like I can't breathe."

"I don't understand. You keep pushing me away."

"You keep trying to keep me caged in. And I love you. I really do," She walked towards him closing the remaining space between them. She reached out and took his hand in hers as she stood before him and looked up into his dark brown eyes. "You're the father of my son. But I need to go. I need space. I need room to breathe. I need room to be able to be free. If I stay here, with you, I'd be severely compromising myself, Mike. It wouldn't be fair to me and it wouldn't be fair to you. And in turn, it wouldn't be fair to our son." She reached up and gently pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. She gently ran her thumb against his smooth, clean shaven jaw before she pulled away from him and started to walk past him. But, before she could pass completely he grabbed her wrist gently and tugged her towards him. "Michonne. Look, please don't go back to your parents. We can talk about this. All I want to do is marry you. Is that so bad?" He pleaded one last time as he looked deep into her eyes.

"I can't do that Mike. I'm sorry. This… all of this… I can't do it anymore. Especially knowing that you're not satisfied with what I can give you." She pulled her arm out of his grasp and he let her go. Michonne reached for her light leather jacket from the metal coat hooks next to the door and slipped it on quickly.

* * *

The night air was brisker than usual, Rick – a ruggedly handsome but overly modest recently divorced father – realized for the first time that night as he tiredly trudged up to narrow, brightly lit, walk way that led to the large double doors of a home that was not his. He stopped in front of those doors and let out a deep sigh before he pushed in the small, glowing orange circle to the right of the mansion sized entrance lethargically. He stood there, clad in his usual jeans, boots and white t-shirt. After a long moment of Rick hanging his head looking down at the faded leather at the toes of his old, brown boots, Lori finally pulled the door open quickly letting a rush of light from the inside of her home to come spilling out into the dark night as well as his face. Rick squinted at her as he took a step back.

"You're late." She stated, not going out of her way to keep the agitation in her voice from being obvious.

Rick could feel a slight warmth coming from the inside of his ex-wife's home. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't anything good. He swallowed hard and looked at Lori apologetically. "I'm sorry, we had a call come through right when I –"

"Just," She cut him off, "stop. I don't care. I told you I had plans tonight. And now I'm late because of your carelessness."

Rick's face scrunched in a combination of surprise and anger at her choice of words. "Carelessness? I got a call Lori. I can't just not do my job because it'll inconvenience you." He explained.

"Right." She returned shortly as she crossed her long arms over her chest. "We've had this conversation many times, Rick. Job before family. That's why we're where we are now."

Rick leaned forward on one leg and squinted at her again, this time not because of the light but for the purpose of trying to get a read on if she _really_ believed the words that she was actually saying. The words for his retaliation were there. The bitterness he'd been feeling over the last six months they'd been divorced had led to countless nights of tossing and turning as he thought about the things that he really wanted to say if he ever had the chance. But, even if this was a good place and time, he knew he wouldn't have been able to push the words past his lips anyhow. So, he only bit down on the inside of his bottom lip, cleared his throat and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I don't want to do this. I just want to see my kids. Where's Carl? Carl!" He hollered past Lori hoping his son was within ear shot.

Lori quickly stepped forward and pulled the door with her so that it was just barely ajar. The light from the inside of her home disappeared. "_Shhh! _Keep your voice down, Judy is sleeping, I just got her down." She scolded a confused Rick.

"Sleeping? Is she not coming with me?"

"No, and Carl isn't either." She replied still in hushed tones.

Rick's hands came out of his pockets and he placed them on his hips instead. "What? What are you talking about? I'm here. You asked me to take them this weekend and now I'm here to get 'em." His energy made a quick comeback as he began to feel the need to pace, though he didn't, as he waited as patiently as he could for his ex wife to respond.

"You're late, Rick. I wasn't sure if you were even coming. You didn't call or text so I assumed you got caught up with work and I wasn't sure how long you'd be. I called my parents and told them that we'd be bringing the kids to their house and so they called my sister and now she's bringing her kids and… it's a whole thing now. You can take the kids next weekend instead."

Rick laughed, but it was obvious it was a sarcastic one because there was nothing humorous about the look that was on his face, or hers. "No…_no_, I just drove _forty_ minutes, Lori. I've been looking forward to this all week. This is _my_ weekend!" He immediately realized the volume of his voice and stepped back to take a moment to collect himself. After a few deep breaths he looked at her again. "This was my weekend. You can't do this."

Lori frowned. "No, I can do this. This isn't your actual weekend. Next weekend is. You were just doing me a favor and now I don't need that favor anymore. I'm sorry."

"Let me at least see Carl, just a few minutes and then'll leave."

* * *

Michonne pressed on her breaks bringing her tiny, black, BMW 3-series to a gentle stop at the red light. She gazed down at the glowing numbers on her dash. She had been driving for about an hour to get to her parents who lived way south of Atlanta, and it was nearing eleven pm. She still had another twenty minutes to go. The light turned green and she hesitated for a moment, still not really sure what she wanted to do. The glaring sound of a horn from behind her snapped her out of her thoughts and she drove straight through the intersection, past the left turn she was supposed to make realizing that it was too late to go to her parents without worrying them that something might be wrong, which there was, and she really didn't feel like having that conversation with them tonight. Seeing a sign for an Exxon gas station she turned right into the station and pulled up to one of the pumps.

Michonne was standing by watching in an almost daze as the numbers for price and gallons flew by as she filled her car with gas when the loud sound of a heavy door being shut broke her out of day dreaming. She looked over her left shoulder to see that a pickup truck had pulled up for gas beside her. She tried to glance through the cabin of the truck and through the far side of the trucks window to see the person on the other side. All she could see was arms and a white shirt. The man then finally moved to the end of his truck and she was able to see him from about mid torso up. She watched him as he opened his gas tank with some added aggression which Michonnne found curious. She watched him shove his card into the small slot and wait a few seconds before punching in his pin. She watched him smack the 'Regular' button for gas and grab the pump from it's holder with obvious agitation.

And before she could watch him do anything else, she heard the faint sound of liquid dribbling to the ground around her feet. She looked down quickly and noticed gas was coming out of her tank and splashing on her clothes and all over her shoes. "Oh..._shit_!" She complained as she removed the pump from her car and put it back on the holder. "Shit, shit, shit…"She did her best to step out of the puddle under her feet. She took noticed of the small droplets that covered her legs from her knees down. "Wonderful…" She started to use her hands to carefully wipe away the droplets from her leather pants.

"Ma'am?"

Startled, Michonne looked up to see the truck guy standing close. He was holding out a ratty looking cloth with what looked to be grease stains on it. "Looked like you could use this."


	10. Two of a Kind: Part 2

****Thank you guys so much for the great feedback. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when you tell me that you're glad I'm back. It's really encouraging and uplifting. I've been going through some shitty things recently and literally the ONLY thing that makes me happy sometimes is TWD and my Richonne family. Love you guys.** **

**So this might turn into a full blow multi chapter story or I may not add anything at all. I have no idea. Please don't hate me.**

* * *

Two of a Kind: Part 2

"Oh, thank you so much. I wasn't paying attention and…." Michonne took the cloth from Rick and started to wipe her hands with it "…I thought these pumps were supposed to detect when your tank was full and stop automatically." She muttered the last of her sentence under her breath. She knelt down and used the old cloth to wipe away the tiny droplets of gasoline that had splattered against her favorite pants. Clearly annoyed; she sighed.

Rick stood perfectly still as he watched her, slightly amused, as the perturbed stranger before him tried her best to clean up the mess. "Yeah. Most do." He answered referring to Michonne's comment about the pumps stopping automatically. "Some don't. This gas station is one that doesn't."

"I see that." She responded as she stood from her knelt position. She moved on to wiping down the side of her car where the gas had trickled down. A heavy silence had settled between them when one of the large, LED lights under the stations canopy flickered suddenly. Michonne briefly caught Rick's eye before looking upwards towards the faulty lighting. She met his gaze once more before handing his cloth back to him.

"Thank you." She spoke quietly and gave him a small, appreciative smile. Rick nodded his acknowledgment, took the old rag from her gently and pushed it into his back pocket all while keeping a curious eye on her. There was still some traffic out on the road. But certainly not as much as there would be if she were back in the city, even at this hour. And so there was barely any outside noise to combat the second bout of silence that fell over them as they stood there, the only two customers at the Exxon gas station.

Rick was the first one to speak again. "I'm guessin' you're not from around here."

Michonne finished her transaction at the pump and closed up her gas tank. "You guessed correct." She confirmed coming to stand at the back of her car closer to where the truck guy was. They were both looking each other in the eye now, finally.

"Rick Grimes." Rick said moving his weight forward on his leg as he extended his right hand for her to shake. He gave a faint smile.

"Michonne." She responded politely as she took a hold of his much larger hand and shook it. His hands were rough but not overly so. They both pulled their arms away at the same time, allowing them to drop to their sides simultaneously. Rick took a few seconds more to take a good look at her face. He admired her almond shaped eyes, her perfectly shaped nose and her almost painful sexy, plump lips. "Nice to meet ya, Michonne. I hope the rest of your night goes better."

She smiled and thanked him by nodding before Rick slowly turned and started to walk back to his truck. Michonne watched him go. His gait that of a typical cowboy. Easy yet confident, maybe even cocky. His bowlegs gave way to a pair of well worn cowboy boots. She snorted to herself and shook her head at the ridiculousness of what she was about to do. "Hey, Rick…" She forced the words out of her mouth on a breath – not even sure where this was coming from. He turned and faced her. "Where can a girl go to sit down and have a drink around here?"

* * *

Like most bars, the place was dimly lit all except for the orange lighting that hung from the outdated fixtures above the dark oak 'u' shape that was the actual bar. The large, flat screen TV that hung above showed muted images of bull riding while the speakers steadily pumped country music to it's _very_ country patrons. Michonne was a fairly confident woman, not one to feel uncomfortable in situations where some others might, however, it was easy to note how out of place she looked amongst these people. She began counting the number of people she saw wearing faded jean jackets. She lost count and laughed to herself.

"What's so funny?" The voice next to her asked. She turned her head to look at Rick who was just bringing his bottle of Coors down away from his now slightly wet lips.

Michonne brought her own bottle of Yuengling to her lips and took a quick sip before placing it back down on the bar in front of her. "Nothing. I was just….._admiring_…. the diversity." She answered with a smile.

Rick's laugh came out as a snort. "Are you pokin' fun at my hometown bar?" He teased back.

Michonne fiddled with the damp label on her beer. "I'm not poking anything," She said and gave him a look, "I'm just saying…. that there are _a lot_ of jean jackets and cowboy hats in this place. I'm just waiting on someone whose nickname is 'The Kid' to come waltzing in here looking for a gun duel."

Rick laughed heartily at that. He leaned back into his stool and folded his arms across his chest. "Well maybe next time you can drag me to one of those uppity, city, jazz club bars and I'll sit there and judge everyone in it the entire time."

"That means that we would have to cross paths again in order for there to be a next time."

Rick squinted at her and leaned forward in his seat again, grabbing hold of his beer, he took another sip while keeping his squinted gaze on her. He found her so damn curious. "Yeah, I guess that's what that would mean."

Michonne sighed. "Honestly, this is a nice place," she admitted looking around again, "But I don't think I can take much more of Garth Brooks' crooning."

Rick slid off of his stool and was standing between her and where he was just sitting, it was a tight squeeze. "That ain't Garth Brooks. It's Brad Paisely." He corrected not looking her in the eye but looking at her entire face. Rick was so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath and the deodorant on his body. Rick turned to face the bar and motioned for the bartender.

"What can I get ya Deputy?"

"Just a six pack of Yeueling please." Rick placed a twenty on the bar and turned back to face Michonne.

"You paying for my drinks, _Deputy_?" She asked emphasizing 'deputy'.

Rick only smiled, which for her, answered both of her questions.

Rick nodded towards the back entrance. "Come outside with me?"

* * *

The bar sat on the outskirts of a crop field where Rick would usually park his truck. On some nights he would just come back out to his truck with a six pack and lay in the bed of his truck looking up into the sky wondering where he had gone so epically wrong in his life.

Tonight, he had company in the form of a dark skinned goddess from the city. He had no idea what he was even doing with this woman but here she was.

Rick dropped the tailgate of his truck and jumped into the truck bed. He went to the corner where there was a large, steel black box that looked like a typical tool box, only much bigger. He quickly popped it open and pulled out an old, but clean, tattered red and cream striped throw with fringed ends. He walked back and sat down on the edge of the tailgate and looked at Michonne expectantly, who was still standing there cautiously watching his every move.

"You wanna get in on this? It's all I got?" His lips upturned into an adorable smirk. "Well I am freezing…" She answered and moved closer to where Rick was. Rick reached out a hand offering to help her up and she only looked at it before hopping up on her own and situating herself against the hard steel. Rick unfolded the blanket, letting it fall to its full length before he carefully brought it over to his right where Michonne was sitting and slipped it across her back, letting each side fall over her arms. "There." He said with finality.

"Thank you." She responded simply as she grabbed hold of the fringed ends in both hands and pulled the blanket more snuggly around herself. They were both quiet for a moment as the chilly country air passed over their exposed skin. "I can't believe I'm sitting here right now." She almost laughed.

Rick busied himself by taking two Yuengling's out of the pack and opening them. "Why not?" He answered as he passed one beer to Michonne.

She took the beer from him and held it against her thigh as she looked up into the beautiful night sky. You could never see the stars that clear in the city. "Hoping into trucks with random men – not something I usually do." She took a nice long sip of her beverage.

"And you think this is normal for me? Getting a beautiful young lady to come back to my ratty old truck to drink beer that I don't even really like?"

Michonne scoffed. "Says the guy who drinks Coors."

Rick shook his head and laughed. "Ok… all right." He looked up to the stars with Michonne. "So, what's your trouble?"

Michonne was confused. "Trouble? What do you mean?"

"Earlier. Tonight. At the gas station, I sensed something was wrong. You seemed agitated, and not just because you sprayed gasoline all over the place."

Her tone was serious when she answered him, "I had a fight with my boyfriend. I think it's over." She admitted freely to her own surprise.

"Ah, _that_ kind of trouble. I'm all too familiar."

Michonne toed off her heels, pulled her legs up and crossed them so that she was sitting Indian style. "I just don't understand him, you know? It's like the more I'm with him, the more lost I feel."

"See I have the opposite problem. My wife left me for another man. Took my son and my little girl. And the longer I go without them the more lost I feel."

Michonne looked over at Rick then. She took note of the hint of sadness that took over his features. "I'm sorry." She apologized genuinely.

"Yep. Me too." Rick took a long pull on his beer. "I'm just trying to find a way to be ok with all of this. I thought I was a good husband, a good father. I mean yeah I worked a lot. Yeah, we bickered but Christ knows I tried to give her everythang she wanted. But it was never good enough. She always wanted more and I couldn't…." He dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head, "I couldn't do it. It wasn't enough."

"Hey."

Rick looked over at Michonne.

"Some people are never satisfied. Trust me. I know. It couldn't have all been your fault. All Mike ever wants to do is change me. He wants all these things that I don't want. And when I voice that I don't want them he gets upset and wants hand out ultimatums and… I can't handle that anymore. No relationship is perfect I know, but this one isn't even healthy anymore."

"So what's around here that's better than what you left back home?" Rick asked, his voice a little raspy.

"My son. He's staying with my parents. They don't live too far from here."

Rick nodded. "I wish I could have my kids full time one day, or at least more than I do now."

"I'm sure you could, if you fought for it. You have rights you know."

"What… you a lawyer or something?" Rick asked jokingly.

Michonne only smiled, which was enough to answer his question.


	11. Unsteady

**Song inspiration; X Ambassadors -_ Unsteady_**

* * *

Unsteady

The bottom level of the house was almost completely void of any light and nearly wholly quiet save for the occasional light stirring sounds that would trickle through Judith's baby monitor that Rick was resting against his thigh. Rick was just about halfway through his fourth glass of straight up scotch when the sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes, already adjusted to the lack of light, followed a path towards the direction of the sound. He could just barely make out her footsteps as she quietly made her way into the foyer and then into the dining room to where Rick could finally see the outline of her heavily shadowed figure.

Sitting in a tucked away recliner on the far side of the living room, he watched her as she removed her Katana and placed it gingerly on the large dining room table in front of her. Her back to him, he studied her with a frown as she looked down at the Katana for several long moments. He wished he could see her facial expression in the moment, wished he knew what she was thinking while she eyed the weapon that had very naturally become an extension of herself over the last several months. She placed the back of her forearms on the back of one of the hard, oak chairs and leaned against it in deep thought.

Several moments later the quiet was pierced by a noise that came from Judith's baby monitor and Michonne turned quickly and easily on her heels towards the sudden sound. She took one cautious step towards the living room with wide pupils as she tried her hardest to see through the dark expanse of the large room. "Rick?" She whispered.

"It's me." He answered back. His voice thickly layered with grogginess and sounding exactly like someone who had a shit load on his mind and had just consumed a moderate amount of alcohol.

Michonne squinted as her eyebrows' furrowed; the concerned look on her face a direct response to her immediate recognition of that something was wrong just by the tone of his voice.

"Rick." She said his name again – it fell from her lips in that now familiar way – smooth, rich and in that low commanding but yet comforting tone that she had sometimes spoken to him in, more so recently than ever before. It was that tone that had the power to melt away the world around him away instantaneously. It demanded his attention, his respect and probably most importantly – his surrender.

But he was a little drunk. And his drunk self wanted to rebel against the surrendering part.

Michonne took a few more careful steps into the living room. Her eyes adjusted a little bit more and she was able to finally distinguish his form sitting in the recliner in the corner of the room. "What's wrong?" She asked him quietly as she stood several feet away, her arms folded across her chest.

His chuckle was laced with darkness. "What's right?" He sniffed, looked up at her and waited for a response.

For a brief moment Michonne seemed to ponder Rick's retort before she moved across the room to close _almost_ all of the distance between them. And as she closed in on him she noticed that Rick was holding Judith's baby monitor in one hand and a glass whiskey tumbler filled with some kind of dark liquor in his other. Her eyes moved further down and she saw that the bottle of said liquor was placed between his legs on the floor, Rick's bare feet on either side of it. Michonne crouched down and grabbed for the bottle. She held it only inches away from her face as she tried to read the words on the label in the dark. Finally, she sat all the way down on her butt and stretched out her arm trying to hand the bottle back to Rick. "Wanna save some scotch for the rest of us?" She joked, her hand still held out with the bottle in it.

Rick took the bottle from her and placed in between his legs, against his crotch. "You don't even drink."

Michonne scoffed. "Says who?"

"I've never seen you."

"You've never seen me do a lot of things but that doesn't mean I don't do them."

Rick slowly leaned forward in the recliner, reached between his legs to grab the bottle and handed it back out to her. Michonne looked at it for a few seconds before finally taking it back with a snatch. She twisted off the top and started to bring the bottle to her mouth but stopped midway to ask, "You mind?"

"Go for it." He answered hoarsely, still leaned forward in his chair.

Michonne took a small swig and swallowed it right away. She grimaced at the bitterness and the now foreign feel of the way strong liquor burns the back of your throat on its way down. Once she had a hold of her bearings again, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, put the cap back on the bottle and asked, "What's up with this?" She nodded at him sitting in the dark in the middle of the night, downing alcohol like it was normal behavior for him. But she didn't need to actual say any of that; she knew, that he knew what she meant with the simple question and nod in his direction. Yet, he didn't respond right away. He only sat there, quiet and thoughtful. He rubbed his calloused thumb across the speaker of Judith's baby monitor while his eyes fixated on the dark in front of him. "You know I used to be a good man. At least, I really cared about _trying_ to be a good man." He started. His voice was low, hushed and breaking. "I was a cop. A fucking _cop_. I was an _example_." He said bitterly, his voice cracked when it rose. "Now look at me. I'm the opposite. I _get_ people killed. Hell, I put my own children in danger."

Michonne inhaled sharply as she could feel her chest begin to grow heavy. She knew that he'd been struggling more than he would admit to since Carl got shot. She knew he was holding back, trying to be strong for Carl during his recovery, even trying to be strong for her, but he neglected to face his own demons that haunted him about this entire situation and now it had all obviously come to head. She wasn't quite sure how to manage this side of Rick. She'd never experienced him half drunk and angry before. But doing anything else – being anywhere else besides there for him in that moment felt wrong. Being near him, being near Carl and Judith all of the time felt right. It had always felt right. Even when she could barely hold his baby girl without being thrust into some level of emotional breakdown.

"We're all just people, Rick. Circumstances change us. Shit happens and we all navigate through it differently. You're not a bad person, ok? You're _not_ a bad father." She looked up into his eyes as she tried her best to relay her sincerity.

"No." He shook his head in the dark and gripped his glass tighter. "No. I _am_ a bad father, Michonne."

"If you were I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have stayed with you this whole time. Are you questioning my judgment?"

Rick fell silent once more.

And Michonne let him be silent.

He continued to nurse his glass of scotch while she, every minute or so, would take sips from the bottle itself. And the longer she sat there the more agitated he became. And his frustration wasn't with her per say, it was with the fact that she _was_ there for him. Being ok with who he was and being ok with what he was doing. Her just sitting there, being ok with him, with _everything_, he hated it and he needed it so badly all at the same time. He felt a dull burn in the pit of his stomach from the alcohol. But that dull burn was a welcome relief over the sharp pangs of stress and guilt that were successfully overwhelming him _before_ he opened that bottle had turned his aching into something just bearable. The strong brown liquor also gave him the courage to talk about things that he would never normally want to discuss. Ever.

"Lori," He ground out with such a low grittiness that is caused Michonne to quickly look up at him. She found his eyes right away. "Lori – she ah – she loved me. I know she did. But she never seemed to _get it_. I just wanted to keep her and Carl safe but I could never – I could never make the _right calls_." He shook his head as he remembered. "She was so hurt and angry with me about Shane. With Carl there and him havin' to be the one to put him down…." She heard him inhale a quick breath and then slowly blow it out through his nose.

Michonne felt her throat tighten when she tried to swallow. She knew Rick never talked about this. To anyone.

"…I knew she hated me for it. And the way she looked at me? She was disgusted. Didn't even want me to touch her after I told her what happened." Rick's face contorted as he reminisced on the way she batted his hand away when he tried to reach for her desperate for her reassurance, a connection, _something_ to keep him going.

Michonne could hear Rick's obvious struggle to keep his emotions from seeping into his tone but he failed. "After that I just became a different person. Sometimes I get glimpses of myself. Like I'm on the outside looking in and I don't like it." He took a few minutes to collect himself again. He willed his voice to be stronger when he started again. "And the more time that passes the more I understand why she hated me so much. Makes sense."

He took another sip of his drink, licked his lips of the excess alcohol around his mouth and adjusted his position in the recliner so that his head was completely rested against the chair. He was looking up now, as though his past was playing like a movie on the ceiling.

"And then you come along."

"And then I came along…" Michonne repeated back to him softly in agreement.

"You didn't even know me and you trusted me. We were at odds there in the beginning but even then – I could see it – in your eyes – I could see you trusted me. Even after, no, even during me being an asshole to you, you looked at me like you could see only the good things and not any of the bad." He said, a little mesmerized by it.

He brought his gaze back down from the ceiling and looked her directly in the eye. The intensity of his gaze was not lost on Michonne even though it was too dark to make out every detail of his face, she could feel him.

"Why?" He questioned her.

Michonne brought her knees up close to her chest and held them against her as she sat on the floor and contemplated how to answer Rick's question. "I don't know…." She started softly. "I guess because I don't actually see any bad in you, Rick. We're all flawed. I'm flawed. But I see who you are, beyond what you believe you portray – I see you. You're good."

"I killed Pete. And then I nearly slept with Jessie…probably would have if she was still – "He cut himself short, not wanting to say it out loud. "Still think I'm good?"

Michonne's gaze flickered to the floor between them. She wasn't stupid. She knew that something was going on there, but to hear the words coming from Rick himself, she flinched inwardly, but quickly let it go as she focused back on his face.

"You killed Pete because he was dangerous. He was hurting people. There was no choice there." She spoke confidently.

"And Jessie?" He asked.

His voice held something in it when he spoke her name as a question – that plus the look on his face when he leaned forward in his chair sent a clear indication to Michonne that Rick's simple question was only the outer layer of the more honest questions hidden deeper within. She opened her mouth to respond but found that only silence followed.

* * *

To be continued…


End file.
